Dark Angel
by Audrey Lynne
Summary: Abby is attacked on her way home from a club and left for dead. Tim finds her, but was he in time? Team Gibbs unites to support their beloved Goth and help find her assailant. McAbby, Father/Daughter Gibbs and Abby. No rape or main character death, but hate crime elements. Minor Tiva as well.
1. In Blackest Night

_My muse has a name. It's Lucy. Why? Because I was born on Lucille Ball's birthday, and not unlike her character, that muse of mine always has some s'plainin' to do. Like when she takes off for weeks at a time, then returns before I hit a busy stretch at work. Or refuses to leave me alone when I have two other WIPs on deck. So, fear not if you're following my other stories – and if you are, thank you! – they will continue. This one just means I'll be spending less of my time off sleeping and more writing!_

_ This fic is primarily McAbby, with Tiva moments, and a healthy dose of father/daughter Gibbs and Abby vibes. It was inspired by a very sad, true story – but this being fiction, it can have a happier ending. As it did actually happen – and has happened to many others, without media attention – it will probably be referenced as the tale goes on. To Sophie Lancaster – rest in peace, in a place where you won't be judged for who you are._

* * *

Timothy McGee was no stranger to late nights or insomnia. Or writer-induced insomnia, where he could not rest until he got the pictures in his head translated into words. He wasn't sure what was worse, being chained to his writing desk by the muse or the frustration of writer's block.

Tim had gotten most of the latest scene of his novel written and was taking a break when his cell phone chirped with a text message. It was a little after two in the morning and since Tony and Ziva had both been very secretive about their plans for that evening, Tim quickly ruled them out as candidates. Unless Tony was texting to brag, which Ziva would murder him for. Tim picked up his phone – it was Abby Sciuto.

_You awake? Walking back from The Shadowbox with Charity. Wanna come over?_

Tim was still wide awake and he had nothing better to do. Besides, he and Abby hadn't had time to get together outside of work in awhile. Even though their official relationship had ended a long time ago, Tim was still very close to Abby and he genuinely enjoyed hanging out with her. He texted a confirmation back. The Goth club she'd been at was close to her apartment, so if he left soon, she'd be home before he arrived.

* * *

Tim's phone beeped with a couple of more texts as he drove to Abby's place, but he ignored it because it was out of reach on the passenger's seat. He checked his phone once he'd parked outside of Abby's building and saw the last message from Abby on the screen, timed twenty minutes ago. _Almost there_.

Tim nodded and slipped his phone into his pocket, then hit the button so she could buzz him into the building. When she didn't reply after a minute, Tim buzzed again. Nothing. Frowning, he cleared the texts from his screen and called Abby's phone. It rang and sent him to voicemail. "Hey, Abs, it's me – Tim. I'm outside. Just...call me if you're not home yet and I'll wait in my car." Abby's neighborhood wasn't a bad one, but there was nowhere in Washington DC that it was a good idea to hang out alone in the middle of the night.

Tim went back to his car and called up his missed texts, all from Abby. The one immediately before the last had his eyebrows furrowing together in concern.

_Think I lost him._

Who? Tim immediately scrolled back to the beginning and read what he'd missed with a rising sense of dread and guilt.

_Creepy dude following. Trying to lose him._

_ Two blocks away. Creepy dude yelling. Not cool. Called cops._

_ Think I lost him._

But then why wasn't she answering her phone? Tim tried to called her again and it only rolled over to voicemail once more. The windows of Abby's apartment were dark. Tim called up his phone's GPS locator and had it search for Abby's phone. They'd both enabled the feature out of trust, for emergencies. He figured this qualified.

The app flashed up an address the phone was nearest – Abby's. Tim tried the door once more, with no answer. Trying to think of anything that might help, he called the 911 dispatcher on the non-emergency line and provided his credentials, trying to sound professional and calm. He asked if they had received any calls from a woman who reported being followed.

"There's a few, Agent," the dispatcher replied. "Do you have a name?"

"Abigail Sciuto," Tim replied. "It would have been less than an hour ago."

"Oh, yes, I have it here." There was a brief pause before the dispatcher reported, "We sent a squad car out to patrol the area. They didn't see anything suspicious."

Tim thanked her and hung up, just in time to see one of Abby's neighbors head out the door with a small dog, bleary-eyed and muttering for the dog to hurry up and do its business. Tim caught the door before it closed and slipped inside, walking up to Abby's apartment. She didn't answer when he knocked on the door. He let himself in with the key she'd never taken back. "Abby, it's Tim." The apartment was dark and quiet. "Abby?" He checked every room, with no sign of her. "Abby?" He consulted his GPS locator again – same address. He called her phone to see if he could hear it ring – nothing.

Increasingly worried and running low on options, Tim dialed an old friend in Norfolk who still worked the night shift. They had a more sophisticated tracking system. "Hey, Jake. It's Tim McGee," he said when his friend answered. "I need you to look something up for me."

"Sure thing," Jake agreed. "What's the case number?"

Tim sighed. "No case number yet. I'm trying to find someone."

Jake hesitated. "You know we're not supposed to use this for personal-"

"I know." Tim cut him off. "It's not exactly – I think she's in trouble. And she works for NCIS. I need to find her."

"Okay," Jake agreed. "What's the number?"

Tim provided Abby's cell phone number and waited while the computer initiated its tracking sequence. "Run my current location and tell me which direction to head."

"Computer says you're right on top of her," Jake reported after a minute.

"I've looked – she's not here," Tim insisted. "She's got her phone on her, because she texted me earlier."

"Well, wherever she is, that phone is steps away from you," Jake told him. "Your signals are overlapping on my screen, almost. She's like, just to your west."

Tim sighed. "Thanks – I'll keep looking." He hung up and looked around. Abby's kitchen was the farthest west room in the apartment, and its western wall was an outside wall of the building. He looked out a window and into the alley. There was nothing but a pile of boxes and rags that he could see from his vantage point. Sighing again, he called Abby's phone, praying she'd pick up this time. A flash of light caught his attention in the dark and he focused – a tiny point of light from where he was, but it looked like the light of a phone.

Tim rushed outside and into the alley, calling Abby's phone again. The volume was low; he could barely hear it ringing until he was on top of it. It was definitely Abby's. Tim looked around but didn't see her. He ran back to his car for the stash of gloves he kept in the trunk, then hurried back to pick up Abby's phone. He didn't want to contaminate any possible evidence, as this was looking more and more like a crime.

Tim continued to scour the alley, looking for more clues. He had just passed the pile of boxes when he heard it – a low moan. Within seconds, Tim was tossing aside boxes until he got to the bottom, a large crate. His heart broke as he saw her.

"Abby!" Tim climbed into the crate without hesitation; there was barely room for both of them, but he had to get to her. Her face was marred with multiple bruises, defensive wounds on her arms. She was breathing, but it was shallow and slow. Her pulse was thready and rapid. She groaned as Tim touched her, but didn't respond otherwise. The light in the alley was too dim to check her pupils, but all signs pointed to serious injuries.

Tim had to control his rising rage as he dialed 911. Someone had done this to Abby, then tossed her aside like garbage, hidden her so she wouldn't easily be found.

Blood soaked the sleeve of Abby's shirt, though it hadn't pooled anywhere. Tim was too experienced to be reassured; he knew the lack of external bleeding didn't meant Abby wasn't bleeding internally. "Hey, Abby, it's me. It's Tim. I'm just checking you out. The ambulance is coming." Tim didn't know if she could hear him; she was deeply unconscious, only responding to painful stimuli. But if she could hear him, he wanted to reassure her. Tim peeled back Abby's sleeve, noting a long but shallow cut – thin, as if it had been made by the tip of a knife.

Though the Virginia paramedics Tim had met liked to crack jokes at the expense of their DC counterparts, he would have welcomed anyone with oxygen and an ambulance at that point. Abby needed to be in the nearest emergency room as quickly as possible. He climbed out of the way as the paramedics put Abby on a backboard for safety, then lifted her out of the crate she'd been left to die in so they could treat her.

Tim watched anxiously, knowing he should call people but wanting to know what hospital to tell everyone. He listened to the medics talking amongst themselves and he knew Abby was in serious trouble. And what was left of Tim's heart shattered further as the medics turned Abby onto her side, pulling her shirt up to examine her back.

Bloody scratches, probably left by the same knife that had cut Abby's arm, had been etched across her back, spelling out, "Die Goth bitch."

* * *

_TBC!_


	2. Theatre of Tragedy

_Language warning that will extend through the rest of the story. Sometimes it becomes necessary. I try not to overuse it and keep it in-character. Unless it's Tony Stark, but he does it for shock value and that's another fandom. :) How did I end up with two playboy Tonys on my hands?_

* * *

Tim was afraid he was going to have to fight his way into the back of the ambulance, but the lead paramedic took pity on him and said he could ride with Abby as long as he didn't get in the way of treating her. It meant he was relegated to the bench seat of the ambulance, instead of crouching next to Abby, holding her hand as he wanted to be, but he was with her.

Abby's injuries looked even worse in the light. From the time of her texts to him, Tim knew it had been less than an hour between the attack and him finding her. But the bruises were already blossoming and Tim worried he still hadn't been in time. She was already in shock, and Tim knew shock alone could kill, never mind her injuries. And those were just the obvious ones. The paramedics were positive she had internal injuries, but those couldn't be diagnosed until they got to the hospital. They were able to tell she had at least two broken ribs – and more worrisome, a serious head injury. Pain was the only thing she was responsive to, and Tim didn't need a medical degree to know how bad that was.

Once at the ER, Abby was rushed into a trauma suite while a tech pulled Tim aside to answer some questions. Tim knew the hospital was a Level One trauma center, the best and the closest, but he was still frantic with worry. He gave them Abby's name and what he knew of her medical history, retold the story of finding her and his initial assessment. He didn't want to answer questions; he wanted to be with Abby. But as soon as the hospital tech was done with him, the Metro cops had arrived at the hospital and had questions of their own. Tim cooperated with them out of professional courtesy and his deep desire to find Abby's attacker and make him pay. But he had to steel himself to sit down and be interviewed and not rush to Abby's side.

Someone in scrubs hurried into Abby's room with an ultrasound machine, and Tim tried to catch a glimpse of her, but she was surrounded by people and monitors. The arm that didn't have the IV in it hung limply off the edge of the exam table and Tim wanted to shout at them to make her comfortable, but the door closed, and he knew they were more focused on saving her life.

The Metro police officer's hand fell onto Tim's arm – McKinley, his name badge read. Tim didn't know him personally, but he seemed nice enough. "Agent, would you like us to contact her next of kin for you?"

For a brief, fuzzy moment, Tim tried to recall when he had told McKinley that he was NCIS. Then he remembered showing the officer his ID. Everything was a blur, and not just because it was late. "No, ah, I'll do it." Gibbs was listed as Abby's next of kin and he deserved to hear bad news from one of his own and not some stranger. It was _not_ a phone call Tim wanted to make, but he had to – and he needed to do it soon.

Tim was about to step outside to use his cell phone – he didn't have any signal inside the ER – when a nurse slipped out of Abby's room and approached him. "Sir, we need to take her to a CAT scan, then surgery."

Not entirely unexpected, but Tim's heart dropped anyway. He was glad he was on Abby's list of emergency contacts so he could get information; the hospital staff had already checked the computer. It wasn't the first time any of them were visitors to the hospital, unfortunately. "What's wrong?"

"She has several internal injuries, including a lacerated liver," the nurse reported. "That's all we can tell from ultrasound. We'll know more when the surgeon gets in there to do repairs."

"What about her head?" Tim asked. He not only wanted to know for himself, but also knew Gibbs would want all the information available.

"CAT scan will tell more," the nurse reported. "The doctor suspects a hematoma – bleeding on the brain, but we'll need the scan to confirm. A neurosurgeon is on call to meet our trauma surgeon in the OR if surgical repair is needed."

It made sense to Tim, the less time Abby spent under anesthesia, the better. But so much talk of surgeons and the growing severity of her injuries made Tim want to scream. "Can I see her?"

The nurse nodded. "For a minute, while the transport team is on its way down." She led him inside, and an idle part of Tim's brain noted that someone had been kind enough to put Abby's arm back on the cot beside her.

Tim struggled with his emotions as he approached Abby, taking her hand and putting it to his cheek for a moment. He needed to feel that it was still warm, that she was still with them. "Abs...God, I'm sorry I didn't see your texts. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner." Tim reached out with his free hand to stroke her hair. He stopped short of touching her face, not wanting to inflict any more pain on her. The brutality of the attack became clearer the longer he looked at her in the light, and Tim was furious. He wished the hospital had a room where people could go to destroy things and get it out of their system, because it would certainly have come in handy. But, no, he had to keep it together, for Abby. Until he called Gibbs. For his team, once they arrived. He had to stay strong; there was no other choice. "I'm about to call Gibbs. He'll be here soon."

The door opened and four men in scrubs walked in, pulling a stretcher. Tim knew his time was up. He nodded in acknowledgment at the team, then squeezed Abby's hand gently. "Hang in there, Abby. We'll be waiting for you." He stepped out of the way and watched as the newcomers transferred Abby from the ER bed to the stretcher and hurried from the room. Tim turned to leave the room, but paused and looked back where Abby had been.

The sheets were mostly clean, but there were small drops of blood, dotted into a pattern, that corresponded roughly with the hateful words carved into Abby's back. Tim wanted to snatch the sheets away and throw them out, but he knew they might be evidence. He really, really wanted to wreck the room, so he settled for storming outside and throwing a punch at the wall. It did nothing but scrape his knuckles; he didn't really feel any better. He hadn't expected to. But he _did_ have to call Gibbs.

Tim took a deep breath and called up the familiar number on his phone. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

* * *

Decades after his life depended on his ability to snap from sleep to full alert at any unexpected sound, Leroy Jethro Gibbs still did. Typically, he was able to quickly determine the threat status – and most times, go back to sleep. But sometimes action was required.

Gibbs grumbled to himself as he grabbed his ringing phone. Some prank caller had gotten hold of his number and had called him half the night last week, before he got McGee to show him how to block the number. This time, however, the caller ID said it was McGee, and he knew his agents wouldn't call him in the middle of the night without a reason. The problem was, late-night calls rarely brought good news. "Gibbs."

"Boss." With only one word, Gibbs was able to tell that McGee was not himself. He sounded lost.

When McGee didn't immediately continue, Gibbs prodded him. "McGee? What is it?"

McGee sighed. "It's Abby. She's hurt, Boss, real bad. Someone attacked her."

"_What_?" Gibbs was on his feet and getting ready to leave his house immediately. "Who? How is she?"

"They took her to surgery," McGee said, talking quickly, as he often did when upset. "She's got a lacerated liver and a head injury, they don't know how bad yet. Don't know who did it yet."

"Where are you?" Gibbs asked, heading out to his car. "I'm on my way."

"George Washington ER," McGee answered, then took a shaky breath. "Gibbs, it...it's pretty clear it was a hate crime."

"What?" Gibbs didn't immediately think of any traditionally targeted demographic Abby fell into.

"I think she was targeted because she's Goth." McGee sighed again. "I got a text that she was being followed, but I was driving so I didn't check my phone until I got to her place...I was too late, it took me awhile to find her..."

"We can assign blame later," Gibbs said, mainly to cut off the rambling and partly because he knew McGee would expect him to say something similar. "What makes you think she was targeted?" The investigator in him was taking over to keep the panicked father figure at bay.

McGee was silent for a moment. "There were cuts on her back. They...kind of spelled it out, with a knife."

Though he was fighting a murderous rage, Gibbs softened his tone a bit, because he sensed he wasn't going to get the details any other way. "McGee, what did it say?"

"'Die, Goth bitch,'" McGee finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gibbs cursed. "What do we know about this piece of shit?"

"Not much," McGee confessed. "Metro PD is going over the scene now. They've been here. I...I didn't do a full search, I was just trying to find Abby..."

Gibbs sighed. McGee had come a long way as an agent and a man, learning to stand up for himself, but he still had his moments. "McGee, you didn't screw up, okay? You got to her, you stayed with her." He knew McGee and Abby were particularly close, and he hardly expected McGee to stay and search for evidence when Abby needed someone by her side. "I'll be there soon."

"Okay, Boss." McGee was beginning to pull himself together, but Gibbs knew he would. Even if it was a front, to keep on keeping on, his people knew how to handle a crisis. "I'll call Tony and Ziva...oh, and I should call Ducky, too..."

"I'll call Ducky," Gibbs volunteered. He needed some of his old friend's unearthly serenity before he charged into the ER.

"All right," McGee agreed. "Thanks. I'll see you soon."

"See ya." Gibbs wasn't usually one to offer emotional platitudes to his team, but sometimes, they needed it. "Hang in there, McGee. Abby's a fighter."

He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince McGee or himself.

* * *

Tony was actually awake when his phone rang. Just barely, but enough to recognize the ringtone and snatch it up. "Did I not tell you I had plans tonight?"

"Tony." McGee sounded eerily calm, and in retrospect, Tony would kick himself for not noticing. "Is Ziva with you?"

She was, snoozing contentedly on Tony's couch beside him. "What's it to you, McVoyeur?"

"Tony, _please_." McGee's breath hitched and that was when Tony began to realize something was seriously amiss. He and his teammates had called each other at odd hours for no particular reason before, but not sounding like this. "Abby's been attacked. We're at George Washington. She's in surgery now."

"Shit." Tony shook Ziva's shoulder to rouse her; they'd been watching movies together and were still in their clothes. Unfortunate for Tony's sex life, but a good thing now that they needed to move quickly. "We'll be there."

Ziva looked at Tony curiously. "We will be where?"

"ER," Tony explained. "Some son of a bitch attacked Abby." He didn't know for sure it was a male, but Abby was feisty and for someone to overpower and injure her that badly, odds were it was a male with a physical advantage.

"What?" Ziva made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. "I will kill him. How is she?"

"Yeah, you might want to get in line behind Gibbs for that one." And everyone else who knew and loved Abby. "McGee said she's in surgery." Tony waited while Ziva grabbed her phone, then they headed for the door.

The first few minutes of the drive were silent, then Ziva said, quietly, "She will be fine. This is Abby."

"Yeah." Tony nodded. To believe anything else would be devastating. Abby was the heart of their little family. Tony didn't know how they would function without her, especially McGee. That "just friends" business – Tony wasn't buying it. He saw through them they way they saw through him and Ziva. "She'll be okay."

Surgery sounded serious, but it meant she was alive. If she was alive, there was a chance – and Abby was never one to turn down any chance offered to her. That was what Tony was going to keep telling himself until Abby was able to tell him herself she was fine.

* * *

_TBC! Also, for the curious, the chapter title is a Goth metal band. :)_


	3. Family Reunion

_Sorry for the delay – been working swing shifts and crazy overtime hours lately! The brain wants to write but the body needs to sleep... But fear not! My primary case (I'm an agency nurse) is at a major medical center and it gives me lots of inspiration as I wander the halls on my breaks!_

* * *

Tim was sitting in the family waiting room of the trauma OR, staring down at the pattern on the carpet and trying to quiet his thoughts. It felt like he'd been there for hours, but a glance at the clock on the wall said it had only been twenty-something minutes since Abby had been rushed into surgery.

A cup of coffee was pressed into Tim's hands, seconds before a warm, comforting hand fell onto his shoulder. He looked up and tried to fake a smile as he saw Gibbs' face. It didn't work out as well as Tim had hoped. "Hey, Boss."

Gibbs slid into the seat beside Tim, sipping at his own coffee. "Ducky should be here soon. Any word?"

Tim sighed. He wished he had reassuring news, but nothing about the latest report had been reassuring. "Seventh and eighth ribs broken over the liver, which lacerated it. Subdural hematoma. They said they'd know more after surgery." He hated sounding so clinical about her injuries, when it was Abby he was talking about, but it was the only way he was keeping himself from completely freaking out.

Gibbs nodded, but Tim hadn't missed his slight wince at the description of Abby's condition. "Have you seen her since she was brought in?"

"For a minute, before they took her to the CAT scan." Tim sipped at the coffee; his adrenaline rush was beginning to fade and he needed something to override the resulting energy slump. "She wasn't responding to anything but pain. That's probably the head injury...once they get in and relieve the pressure, she'll start to recover..." He hoped. That was what was supposed to happen – but no one had any way of knowing yet what, if any, permanent damage had been sustained already. "She had defensive wounds on her arms. She fought back." Tim clung to that for hope; surely Abby's feisty nature would see her through.

Gibbs was quiet for a long moment, and Tim prepared himself for the explosion that was sure to come. Tim had been beating himself up over the same things already – why he hadn't checked his phone, why he didn't look in the alley sooner – so he was prepared. But to Tim's surprise, Gibbs was calm as he asked, "How'd you find her?"

Tim sighed as he retold the story, from Abby's invitation to hang out to tracking her cell phone and ending up in the alley. "I found her phone, but not her...until I heard a noise coming from the pile of boxes..."

Gibbs frowned. "Boxes?"

Tim wanted to spare Gibbs the details, but he knew Gibbs wasn't the detail-sparing sort. "Whoever attacked her left her in an empty crate...then covered it with empty boxes. I don't think he wanted her to be found."

Gibbs made an angry, growling noise and slammed his fist into the arm of the chair. Tim drew back instinctively, even though he knew the outburst wasn't directed at him. In a way, he wished it had been. It would have been easier than waiting for Gibbs to remind him how badly he'd screwed up, how intervening sooner might have saved Abby from this ordeal.

Gibbs was quiet for a long moment, and finally, Tim couldn't take it anymore. "Boss, I know I should have checked my messages, or-"

Gibbs cut him off. "Knock it off, McGee."

Tim nodded. "I know, apologizing won't change anything, but-"

Gibbs smacked him. "Did you not hear me, McGee? Knock it off. This is not your fault. You investigated; you found her. Even if you'd called Metro when you got that message, who says that would have helped? She called herself and all they did was patrol the area. What they _should_ have done was escort her home."

"Yeah," Tim agreed. He'd thought the same thing. "That club isn't far from her apartment. Whoever did this must have been waiting for a victim; it seems pretty random for him to happen upon her and start following." And, as Tim had learned over the years, very little in criminology was random.

Gibbs sighed. "I _told_ her not to walk home alone that late..." His tone wasn't accusing, just frustrated – and worried. He hid it well, but Tim knew what to look for.

"Yeah." Tim sighed and thumbed back through his missed messages, looking at the times, searching for anything that might have been helpful. Then he saw the first message, Abby's invitation. The one he'd forgotten about when he realized Abby was in trouble.

_You awake? Walking back from The Shadowbox with Charity. Wanna come over?_

"Shit." Tim didn't swear casually – it wasn't his style – but some occasions warranted it. "She wasn't alone."

Gibbs had been looking down the hall, as if waiting for the others to arrive, but his head snapped around. "What?"

Guilt crashed down on Tim all over again. "She was with a friend, Charity." How could he have forgotten that? He hadn't seen anyone else in the alley, but he hadn't been looking for a second victim, either.

Gibbs looked thoughtful. "The infectious disease specialist from the VA? With the purple highlights?" As close as Gibbs and Abby were, Tim knew Gibbs tried not to get involved in her personal life, unless it involved a threat.

Tim shook his head. "No, that's Carol, her best friend. Charity, I haven't met her, but they live close together. They hang out sometimes." His eyes met Gibbs'. "I don't have her number...Abby would, but her phone is evidence now-"

Gibbs put a hand on Tim's shoulder, either to steady him or keep him in his seat. Tim wasn't sure. "We'll find this woman. Metro's techs can check the phone. I already called the director on the way here; we can have agents assist with the search."

Tim wasn't surprised that Gibbs wouldn't have hesitated to wake Vance where his team was concerned. Even though Abby was a civilian employee, she was still part of NCIS. The idea of Gibbs being willing to leave _anything_ to Metro police seemed strange, but as long as he was insisting NCIS join the investigation, Tim wasn't too alarmed. "Abby might have something in her apartment...maybe I should go look..." He didn't want to leave Abby under any circumstances, but the thought of her reaction to her friend being in danger made Tim think twice.

"No." Gibbs shook his head. "I get where you're coming from, but we have people who can do that. Abby needs her family here with her."

For Gibbs, who used as few words as possible to get his point across, that was practically a speech – but he was right. Tim jumped as the word "family" sunk in and he realized there was one more person he'd forgotten to call. "I've got to call Luca." Abby and her brother never got to spend much time together because of the physical distance between him, but Tim knew that, down deep, they were close. "It's even earlier in Louisiana, but he'd want to know." Fortunately, someone had thought ahead and enabled cell phone access in the family waiting area. Part of Tim wanted to wait until he had more information to pass along, but he knew that if it were Sarah, _he_ would want to be notified as soon as possible. "I guess I should do that, while we're waiting."

"All right," Gibbs said. "I'll let people know to look out for a second victim. You got a last name on this Charity?"

Tim shook his head. "No, I don't know her. It'd probably be in Abby's contacts, though."

Gibbs nodded and the two turned away to place their separate phone calls. Tim would have switched duties with Gibbs in a heartbeat, but this call was his responsibility. It still wasn't going to be pleasant.

* * *

It wasn't entirely unexpected, given the early hour, but Tim reached Luca's voicemail – which was even more awkward. He fumbled his way through a message, trying to sound urgent without inciting panic. And then the waiting began.

Tony and Ziva arrived shortly after Tim left the message for Luca. Lately, they'd been staggering their entrances when they'd been together, to maintain appearances, but this time, they didn't bother. Ziva immediately took up residence in the chair next to Tim, Tony sitting down beside her.

Ziva leaned in to hug Tim as he updated his teammates on Abby's condition. Tim returned the hug, grateful. He'd needed that. And it reminded him fondly of how far Ziva had come, the way she used to look utterly baffled when Abby would hug her. Now she had settled comfortably into her place as a member of the family.

"So, once they catch this bastard, we all get a crack at him, right?" Tony asked, obviously trying to sound lighthearted – but it was on all their minds.

"We'd better." Gibbs sounded completely serious about that and Tim didn't doubt he would find a way. When Abby was stable, Gibbs would probably edge his way into the investigation himself – or at least try.

"At least we're here," Tony said quietly after a moment. "Waiting. Instead of..." Whatever he was thinking, he apparently couldn't bring himself to say it, and that alone gave Tim some insight as to what it might have been. "You know, there's a chance." That confirmed it for Tim; Tony had to be thinking of Kate, who'd died so suddenly there was hardly time to react. Or Jenny – something Tim knew Tony had never completely forgiven himself for. Or Mike Franks. Or even Paula Cassidy or Michelle Lee – agents they hadn't been as close to, but had still known and worked with. Maybe all of them. But at least those losses could be classified as deaths in the line of duty, for a noble cause – or, in Franks' case, going out in a blaze of glory. Abby was in surgery because of someone's senseless hatred and rage, nothing she'd ever signed up for, and no fault of her own.

Tim nodded in agreement, nearly smiling despite his ragged emotions as he saw Ziva's hand creep onto Tony's thigh. Tim had no idea when the two had started actually becoming an item, but after years of wild flirtation and frustration, it was nice to see. How Gibbs felt about it might be another issue, but they'd been flying under the radar so far. A little public affection now could easily be construed as friends comforting each other. A part of him wondered what could have been between himself and Abby, if she hadn't been commitment-phobic and he hadn't been Rule 12-phobic. Would he have been there as her boyfriend, maybe even husband? Would their relationship have crashed and burned? There was no way to know, but Tim tried to put those uncomfortable thoughts aside. At the moment, all that was important was that he and Abby were close friends and he was there to support her.

Ziva reached out with her other hand, patting Tim's arm. "Waiting is always the hardest, the not knowing. Once she is recovering, we will be busy helping her."

"Yeah." Tim's cell phone started to ring, and without looking at the caller ID, he was sure he knew who it was. He got up and stepped a few feet away to take the call. Sure enough, the number was Luca's. He briefly debated how to answer, eventually going with a casual, "Tim McGee."

"Ah, yes, Agent." Luca's voice was thick with the Southern accent Abby only rarely slipped into anymore, after academia had trained it out of her. He sounded uncertain and concerned. "What's wrong with Abby?"

Tim clenched his fist briefly, driving his fingernails into his palm to ground himself. The story got harder every time he told it, especially so when he was talking to Abby's younger brother. Worse, Luca was states away, unable to jump out of bed and rush to be at his sister's side when she came out of surgery. "Abby was attacked on her way home from a club this morning. She's in surgery now – a lot of internal injuries." He figured the hate crime details could wait unless Luca pushed for them; it was going to be traumatic enough hearing the news from so far away.

"Oh, Lord," Luca sighed. "Will she be all right? Do you know?"

"We don't know anything for sure right now," Tim admitted, "but I do know that your sister is one of the toughest ladies I've ever met."

"Yeah, that's our Abby," Luca murmured. "Do you know who did this?"

"Not yet," Tim said, "but we've got two agencies involved looking for the guy. We'll catch him. Agent Gibbs will make sure of that."

Luca made a soft noise that sounded like agreement. "Yes...I've only met the man once, but Abby quite adores him. She's very fond of all of you; she talks about your team constantly."

It was heartwarming, but it made Tim all the more impatient to be at Abby's side. "She talks about you a lot, too." Abby had confided in Tim about her discovery that she was adopted, but Luca was still the brother she'd grown up with. Tim was a firm believer in the idea that blood wasn't everything when it came to family. He knew she was still struggling with how to broach the subject with Luca – more out of concern for his reaction than anything. Tim wasn't even going to approach the issue – and, truly, in this situation, it didn't matter. Abby still wore the picture and lock of hair of the mother she'd known in her locket. "I know it's a long way, and I'll definitely keep you updated, but if you were able to make it, I know it would mean a lot to Abby."

Luca didn't hesitate. "Oh, yes, of course. I'll pack Emma up and be on the next flight I can get." He was a single father, after his girlfriend had completely gone nuts and he'd had to fight for sole custody. Tim wondered why it seemed the Sciuto siblings had such bad luck with significant others. He hoped he didn't fall into that category.

"Thanks." This had gone better than Tim had hoped. Luca was obviously distraught, but he was keeping it together. Tim had only spoken with him by phone a few times, and those were happier days, so he hadn't known what to expect. "Call me when you have an arrival time; I'll have someone meet you at the airport."

"I appreciate it," Luca said. "Call me for anything."

"I will," Tim promised.

After hanging up with Luca, Tim returned to his seat. "Abby's brother Luca is going to be working on getting a flight up here."

Ziva nodded approvingly. "It will be good for her to see him."

Ducky strolled into the waiting room, looking remarkably put together for being disturbed in the middle of the night. Of course, he always did. "I apologize for my late arrival, but I managed to consult with Abigail's doctor in the emergency department before I came up." All eyes were instantly on him; no one needed to ask him to go on. "The fractured ribs and lacerated liver are concerning, but reparable – fortunately, her spleen was only bruised, not ruptured, which would have caused massive internal hemorrhage. The biggest concern at present is the subdural hematoma; the sooner they are surgically relieved, the better the outcome, but there can be lasting effects."

"Such as?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky clasped his hands. "For the specific area of the brain that was injured, left-sided musculoskeletal damage would be the most common suspect, but the prognosis is complicated by the multiple non-hemorrhagic contusions she sustained."

"English, Duck," Gibbs snapped.

Ducky sighed. "The truth is, she has every chance to recover, but we won't know anything until she regains consciousness – and that may be awhile. With brain trauma such as hers, the biggest complication is swelling after the fact. To help control that and allow her to heal, it's likely she'll be in a barbiturate coma for a short time."

Tim wasn't unfamiliar with the concept, and the results of such treatment had improved dramatically in the last decade. Ten years ago, he wouldn't have been nearly as comfortable with that idea. "So, what? A few days, a few weeks?"

"I would hope days, barring complications," Ducky answered. "The goal is to keep the treatment only as long as it's therapeutically appropriate. It requires time on a ventilator, and that incurs its own complications after too long."

The news would have been depressing from anyone else – and it still was, technically – but Ducky delivered it with empathy and tact. He had never sugarcoated anything for those he respected. "Anything else?"

Ducky inclined his head slightly in the direction of the OR. "It will all depend on what they find in surgery. I just wanted to prepare you for what you might see; it's not nearly so horrible as it looks. And most patients who awake from drug-induced comas do report remembering things loved ones have said to them, so I firmly believe she will know we're here."

That was a bit of a relief. Tim's medical research for his novels had repeatedly made the point that hearing was the last sense to go, but it was nice to hear it from someone with Ducky's vast experience.

"We'll be here, all right." Gibbs looked determined. "Shifts, if we have to. Unless they kick us out, I don't want her to be alone."

That, Tim was definitely on board with. "Agreed."

Ziva nodded. "Yes. We will be here."

Tony smiled, even if it was a small one. "Got that right."

All for one and one for all. It was like the Three Musketeers, plus one. And then Gibbs, their surrogate father, even if he rarely admitted to the role. And Ducky, devoted physician, who was a few years shy of being old enough to be their grandfather, but he delivered the same warmth and family cohesiveness. So what did that make Jimmy Palmer? Their strange but lovable cousin? It was definitely an interesting situation they had, but Tim wouldn't have traded it for anything – especially in situations like these, when they needed each other the most.

* * *

TBC!


	4. Of Love and Puppies

_Apologies, as usual, for my absence. I've been working. I've been sick. I'm working on a crapload of projects. There was Dragon*Con. I'm launching a Kickstarter for my webseries. All true, all excuses. But! I'm back! And I have no intentions of abandoning this story. Not only will it haunt me if I do, but I've got another NCIS story, the start of a series, on the back-burner, and I'm super-excited for it, but I promised myself I'd finish my other stuff first._

_As far as timeline goes, this story pretty much takes off into its own universe, but would start somewhere in Season 9. And after having seen the opener for Season 10, I can't wait to dive into the fics I promised myself as a treat after I finished this chapter!_

_For the follows, favorites, and reviews – THANK YOU. I apologize to anyone who left a review that I didn't get back to personally._

* * *

Tim had a tendency to fidget with his electronic devices when he was anxious, so when he wasn't texting Luca with updates – a lot of "nothing yet" – he flipped through his photo gallery. He backed it up to his computer's hard drive regularly, but he always kept his favorites on the phone. A picture he'd snapped of Gibbs on the sly, checking his email as he sipped his coffee. There was nothing particularly artistic about the photo, other than that it was a moment in time, a slice of every day. Tony and Ziva, being silly when they thought Gibbs wasn't looking. Jimmy, trying to be suave and failing miserably. Abby, in her lab. Abby, hair down, showing off her latest dress from Hell Bunny's goth design collection. Abby, down on all fours and playing with a litter of puppies, laughing as they licked her face. There were a lot of pictures of Abby, and they all exuded vibrancy and life.

So many people assumed "Goth" meant devil worship, and they were often shocked to find Abby's Catholic roots ran deep. Others just took her obsession with the darkness in the world to mean she was deeply emotionally disturbed. They never got to know the real Abby, who loved puppies, music, her friends, family, and science. Tim had no idea if Abby's attacker was a radical religious freak who felt Goths were a threat or if he was just some random, obsessed person. Or worse, if he had attacked her for sport, the way Sophie Lancaster had been. It had been nearly five years, and Tim still recalled the way Abby had sobbed in his arms when she heard the news. She hadn't known Sophie personally, but she was a part of the community, and for Abby, that was more than enough.

Tim at first tried to clear thoughts of Sophie from his mind, because he couldn't bear to think of Abby dying for her freedom of expression. But then, it made him think. He called up an Internet search on his phone, sighing in frustration as it produced results.

"Whatcha doin'?" Tony asked casually, in a tone he'd probably have meant to be annoying any other day.

"Sophie's Law," Tim replied automatically, further refining his search. "It never got to Parliament in the UK, but I'm looking to see if there's anything similar in the US."

"Whose law?" Ziva asked, leaning forward.

"Sophie Lancaster was a Goth girl who was attacked and killed in the UK in 2007," Tim explained. "Her family tried to officially add Goths to the groups protected under hate crime legislation. It got a lot of attention, but it never passed." According to his research – which included several well-known legal code resources – it hadn't been addressed in the States, either. "I want something to slam this guy with."

Gibbs put a hand on Tim's shoulder. "We all do. Don't worry – legislation or not, he'll see justice."

Tim nodded, highly suspecting that "justice" included a meeting with the business end of Gibbs' gun. For once, Tim was totally okay with that. Usually, Gibbs' solutions made Tim squirm a little, even once he was used to them, but he had no such reservations this time. Sometimes, society was just a little better off once someone was removed from it.

Ziva ran her hands over her face, making a frustrated noise. "How long has it _been_? Surely we should have heard _something_ by now."

"Neurosurgery is always delicate," Ducky reminded them, "and the liver is a particularly vascular organ; surgery can be complex."

"So you're saying be patient?" Tony asked, more than a little skeptical. "Because I'm not feeling the patience right now."

"Nor am I," Ducky admitted. "However, as much as I would like an update, it will do no good to subject Abigail to a rushed procedure."

"Well, when you put it like _that_..." Tony sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair for a moment, then sat up, his expression taking on renewed vigor. "Come on, you guys. What are we stressing for? This is _Abby_. She's so hardcore, she sleeps in a coffin. Nothing's going to keep her down for long, right?"

It was grabbing at straws, but Tim would take it. Better than focusing on any of the other, disastrous, potential outcomes. "Yeah. She's gonna be fine."

Tony nodded. "Good. Glad that's settled." After a dramatic pause, Tony stole a sideways glance at Tim. "Would it be kind of suspect if I hugged you right now?"

Tim smiled wearily. At that point, he wasn't sure which of them needed the hug more, and he didn't care. "I think we can get away with it."

* * *

It had been a little over five hours since Abby had been taken into surgery, and though Ducky assured them that they were still within the expected time frame for such operations, Tim was more than a little relieved when a doctor stepped out to speak with them.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Holden." The woman smiled. "Are you all here for Ms. Sciuto?"

"Yes." Gibbs stepped forward. "How is she?"

"Critical, but stable," Holden said. "Her vitals are steady, and though she's sedated right now, she was breathing fairly well on her own before we put her on the ventilator for surgery."

"How long do you expect her to be on the ventilator?" Ducky asked.

Holden pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I'll be turning her care over to our intensive care specialist – it's really too early to say right now. But if her intracranial pressure stays stable and she doesn't suffer any unexpected complications, it could be as little as a few days. Right now, the most important thing is that her brain is allowed to rest so the swelling can go down and she can heal."

"Right," Ducky agreed. "What about the rest of her injuries?"

"We were able to repair the damage to her liver without needing to remove any of it," Holden answered, "so that's a positive. The lacerations to her back were shallow, so I predict most of them will heal without scarring."

Tim breathed a sigh of relief, not just at the hopeful prognosis. It was absurd to be concerned with cosmetics at this point, but he didn't want Abby to have to live with those hateful words branded into her skin. "When can we see her?"

"We'll be monitoring her in recovery for another hour," Holden said. "One of you can see her at a time, but only for five minutes. After she's admitted to our Trauma ICU, you'll be subject to their visitation policies. A nurse will be out in a few minutes to escort you to see her."

After Dr. Holden had said goodbye and retreated back down the hall, Tony frowned. "Five minutes? What is this, the Dark Ages of medicine?"

Ducky patted Tony's arm. "It's only for the first hour. The ICU's visiting hours are far more lenient."

"They'd better be," Gibbs grumbled. "McGee, why don't you take first watch?"

Tim really wanted to, but he didn't want to step on Gibbs' toes, even if Gibbs had been the one to offer. "Are you sure, Boss?"

"Would I have asked you if I wasn't sure?" Gibbs countered.

Tim nodded, knowing better than to question it any further. He really did need to see Abby, for his peace of mind, to know she was still fighting. He followed the nurse back wordlessly, nodding numbly at her when she told him to come to her with any questions. His sole focus was on Abby. She was still, paler than he'd ever seen, even when she'd dressed up as Sandman's Death for Halloween. Her head was wrapped in bandages, but her hair still poked around them. He'd read about hair-sparing neurosurgery in his idle, anxious web browsing, so he wasn't surprised, but it was nice to see. He'd always loved Abby's hair. He teased her whenever he looked closely and saw her blonde roots starting to show, but she'd sworn him to secrecy. She'd been dying her hair since she was thirteen anyway, and Tim thought the black actually suited her better.

Abby was never still, but now she was, heavy sedation dripping into one IV, replacement blood through another. The ventilator hissed every five seconds or so, providing another breath. Beyond the tape that held the tubing in place, Tim could see the bruises that were blooming across Abby's face. He clenched his fist, trying to stay calm for her sake. "Hey, Abby." He was hesitant to touch her, but the nurse had said it was okay, as long as he didn't disturb anything. The problem was, wires and tubing were everywhere. Tim finally settled for an untouched spot on her cheek, stroking it gently. "It's Tim. I'm here. We're all waiting for you. Luca's coming." The hiss of the ventilator provided a gentle balance to the high-pitched chirping of various monitors.

Tim knew his time was limited, so he leaned in close to Abby, telling her, "Keep fighting. Don't let this bastard win." He risked a gentle kiss to her forehead, and none of the monitors went haywire. "You've got lots of people who care about you, Abs. We're here." Though her friend Charity was still at the back of his mind – Metro PD had no trace of her yet – he didn't want to bring up anything that might upset Abby, so he didn't mention her. "I texted Carol – she's in Vancouver for a conference, but you probably knew that. She's getting on a flight as soon as her last lecture's over." When Abby regained consciousness, she was going to be met with a wave of love.

Too soon, Tim's five minutes were up, so he headed back to the waiting room and switched places with Gibbs. Tony and Ziva immediately moved to flank him.

"How is she?" Ziva asked.

"Quiet," Tim said. That was what had struck him the most. "But the monitors look good. I guess she's doing okay, considering." He pulled out his phone and texted Luca and Carol the latest update. _Abby out of surgery. Stable. Sedated._

"Hey, that's just for now." Tony grinned, though it was a poor imitation of his usual mega-watt smile. "Take it from a guy who's had a tube shoved down his throat a few times, you've got to be on some good drugs to put up with that. She'll be running around and getting you to smuggle puppies in to her in no time."

A ghost of a smile played across Ducky's face. "Well, if you'd get one of her therapy trainees, you wouldn't have to smuggle the animal in at all."

"All right!" Tony held his hand out for a high-five, and Tim gave in. "There will be puppies."

Tim didn't doubt it would do wonders to cheer Abby up. Once she was awake, he'd call her friends at the training center. He was sure they would be happy to help, given how much work Abby had done for them. He closed his eyes for a minute, trying to sort out his thoughts, and exhaustion overtook him. He woke nearly twenty minutes later, with Ziva's jacket padding his head. When he tried to sit up, Tony eased him back.

"Go back to sleep, McDrowsy. It's been a long night. We'll wake you up when she's settled."

"Mmkay," Tim murmured, not yet awake enough to argue. He wanted to be alert and ready, but adrenaline had abandoned him entirely. He drifted back into a restless sleep, trusting his friends would watch out for Abby while he couldn't.

* * *

TBC!


	5. Thicker Than Blood

_I was so excited by Kyle's reappearance in "Recovery," and what little we saw of him was in total agreement with what I had for him in my head. This story has veered into its own universe before those events, so the meeting will be different, but I always planned for him to be a part of this story._

* * *

The ICU had a much cozier family waiting area, with couches, tables, and a small kitchen. With Abby safely settled and the staff having been explicitly instructed to inform them of the slightest change, everyone could start to settle in and get some rest. They had pulled many an all-nighter before, but the emotional exhaustion only compounded the situation.

Tony and Ziva had curled up together on one of the couches, and she had fallen asleep in his arms not long before he had drifted off as well. Gibbs had a sneaking suspicion there was more than friendship going on there, but this wasn't the time to address Rule Twelve, and even that rule had exceptions. Most of them did, in rare circumstances. He just hadn't told his team about the exceptions, because human nature dictated that curious agents would then go out of their way to explore them.

While the father figure in him wanted to get possessive, Gibbs sent McGee in to sit with Abby first. McGee was understandably shaken by the night's events and he needed the reassurance that Abby was still alive and fighting. The ICU rooms had comfortable chairs – what a concept – and Gibbs was fairly confident McGee would fall asleep again not long after he'd settled. That was okay, and Gibbs was kind of hoping for it. The unit allowed two visitors at a time, around the clock except an hour during shift changes, so it didn't block Gibbs from peeking in on her, and McGee desperately needed the sleep. Despite his protest, Gibbs knew the hour-long nap McGee caught in the surgical waiting room wasn't going to cut it.

As predicted, when Gibbs slipped in to see Abby, McGee was fast asleep in the chair beside her. Some thoughtful staff member had draped a spare blanket over him, and Gibbs nodded in satisfaction. He walked around to the other side of the bed, sitting in a smaller chair, and fumbled with the top bed rail on his side until it moved out of his way. He understood the theoretical need for it, but as long as he was there, it wouldn't be a safety concern. "Hey, Abs." Gibbs reached out and stroked her cheek. He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake McGee. "I know they've got you drugged so you can heal up, but I can't wait to see you open your eyes again." Her face was so expressive; she never had to say a word for Gibbs to know how she felt, and he wasn't a particularly touchy-feely sort of person. Now, her face was half-hidden in bandages and tape, marred by bruises. Each mark on her body further fueled Gibbs' rage against her attacker. Gibbs didn't care what he had to do; he'd have his moment with the perpetrator. No one messed with Gibbs' family.

After a brief consultation with Luca, Gibbs had authorized the release of Abby's name to the news media. He wanted the world to have a face to associate with this horrible crime, and Luca agreed. Gibbs hoped it might also help the search for Abby's missing friend, if someone who knew her was led to come forward. Gibbs didn't know much about the Goth community, but from what little he'd learned from Abby, he knew they always united to support their own. Abby needed that.

Gibbs was silent for several minutes, holding Abby's hand, watching her breathe with the ventilator. Her hand was reassuringly warm in his, and he smiled when he glanced at McGee. His people were just bound and determined to do away with Rule Twelve, it seemed – only Gibbs wasn't sure these two had figured it out yet. He had watched from afar while they flirted, ensuring it didn't interfere with their work. They had drifted together and apart time and time again. It was one of the few subjects Abby actively avoided discussing with Gibbs. While Tony and Ziva seemed to enjoy flaunting their questionable relationship status, Abby and McGee ducked and kept it sly, to the point that Gibbs was pretty sure they didn't even know where it stood. He wasn't going to actively encourage anyone to jump into a romantic relationship – not only was it not his style, but he was hardly the best one to offer such advice. He was content to observe and let things unfold in their own due time, reserving his involvement for when it mattered – when someone got hurt or when he was pretty sure someone was going to be. Only Ducky knew that Rule Twelve had undergone revision long ago – it had originally been, "Think twice before dating a co-worker." After Gibbs was left with a Dear John letter in Paris, it was edited.

Whatever their relationship status, it was clear Abby and McGee needed each other now. Gibbs was grateful they were so close; anyone else might have assumed Abby ditched him and left without searching for her. Abby might never have texted him at all. Too many what-ifs.

Gibbs looked up as a nurse poked her head into the room. "Agent Gibbs?"

"Yes?" Gibbs asked, a little suspicious.

"There's a young man out front, your friends said he should talk to you." She spoke quickly, a little apologetic.

Gibbs nodded. "I'll be right there." He stood, putting the safety rail back in place, then bent down to kiss Abby's cheek. "You rest, sweetheart. I'll be back."

When Gibbs walked out through the ICU's double doors and into the hallway outside the waiting area, as he'd been told, there was a young man with dark hair waiting for him. He was fidgeting, and for a moment, Gibbs thought it must be Luca. He looked younger, but other than that, he could have been Abby's fraternal twin. But Luca's plane wasn't due for another three hours – and, belatedly, Gibbs remembered that Abby and Luca weren't biologically related. "Can I help you?"

"Hi." The man – not much more than a kid, really – shifted uncomfortably. "I...I know this is awkward, and it's a horrible time, but...I mean, I saw the news, and...I'm sorry; I should go."

Gibbs knew the team would have handled any friends of Abby's who came when they heard the news, and so he followed his gut. "No, it's all right. What's your name?"

When the kid made that face Gibbs knew so well, the one that meant Abby wasn't really sure about something but was going ahead with it anyway, Gibbs' suspicions were confirmed even before the kid introduced himself. "Kyle Davis. I...it's silly, really. She...I don't even know her, really, but she came into the rescue where I work a while ago. I...felt connected to her, you know? But she left before I could even get her name. Then I saw the news this morning, and...it's her. I know it's none of my business, but I was hoping to...see if she was gonna be okay."

"It's all right." Gibbs would have been irritated by any other interloper, but Kyle was a special case. Abby hadn't gotten up the nerve to go back, hadn't figured out how to explain her history to her family – both biological and adopted – but she had mentioned to Gibbs several times the intense connection she'd felt, looking at Kyle during their brief meeting. It stood to reason Kyle might have felt the same way. Gibbs felt like he was the wrong person to explain this, but McGee would have felt awkward about it too, and he was still asleep. Abby wouldn't be awake for some time yet, and Luca didn't know. Gibbs fully reserved the right to rope Ducky into helping him with this conversation, and while he hoped Abby would forgive him, at the same time, he knew she would understand. He nodded toward the family lounge. "You got a few minutes, Kyle?"

Kyle nodded. "It's my day off; I'm taking a puppy to his new home in Hagerstown this afternoon, but that's not 'til three."

"Good." Gibbs began to walk and motioned for Kyle to follow. "We need to talk."

* * *

Tim was awakened by the sound of the ventilator alarm, he snapped to awareness and looked around. A man in scrubs smiled at him and waved, tapping a button on the ventilator screen to silence the alarm. "Don't worry; everything's fine. Sorry to wake you."

"No, it's okay." According to the clock, it was mid-morning, and Tim felt like he had slept too long already.

"I'm Doug, from respiratory therapy," the man explained. "I just came for the morning breathing treatments, but these machines are super-sensitive. It's a good thing in the long run, but they do make a lot of noise."

Tim nodded. Unfortunately, it wasn't the first time one of his friends had been on a ventilator. He stayed a few more minutes, until Doug finished his work and a tech came in to bathe Abby. Tim stepped out to allow her privacy and hopefully find some coffee. He checked his phone – no new messages, and there was still plenty of time before he was due to pick Luca and Carol up at the airport; they'd coordinated so that their flights landed within an hour of each other. Carol had been able to arrange coverage for her scheduled lectures, and she hadn't hesitated to wake colleagues up to do it.

Tony strolled over to meet Tim as he walked into the lounge. "What's the word?" Tony asked.

Tim shrugged. "They're cleaning her up. She's pretty much the same." He looked around the room, intrigued as he spotted Ducky talking to a dark-haired man who looked like he could have been related to Abby. "Who's that?"

"Interesting story, that." Tony smiled. "His name is Kyle. Seems our Southern belle has some unexpected roots."

Tim smiled. He didn't know how much Abby had chosen to share with Tony or Ziva. "Wow, really? How'd he find us?"

"Saw the news. Felt a mystical connection." Tony shrugged, a look about him that suggested he had resigned himself to not having the whole story for now – but only for now. "Apparently, he's Abby's long-lost brother. Hell of a way to find out, but he seems like a nice kid. He's pretty huggy. Definitely shares genes with Abby."

Tim chuckled. That didn't surprise him. He wandered over, not wanting to interrupt Ducky and Kyle's conversation, but wanting to meet Abby's brother. Ducky looked up and smiled. "Ah, yes – Timothy, your ears must be ringing; we were just talking about you. Kyle, this is Agent McGee."

Kyle jumped up, then shook Tim's hand, which morphed into a hug. "Dr. Mallard was telling me you and Abby are really close."

Tim nodded. "Yeah, we are." At least he liked to think so. They had their ups and downs. Sometimes they treated each other like crap, but they always apologized and moved on. "It's really nice to meet you. Abby wanted to go back and introduce herself, but she didn't want to completely disrupt your life."

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that. I'd probably have chickened out a few times too. I almost did today. I mean, my parents were always open about my adoption, but if I hadn't known...it'd be pretty heavy news."

"Did your parents know anything about your birth family?" Tim asked. It was probably a bit soon for invasive questions, but he knew Abby was desperate to know anything about her birth parents.

Kyle shook his head. "Not much. I was about six months old when I was adopted. My parents never knew I had any siblings. I even asked my mom, after Abby came into the store that day, because it seemed kind of crazy, but it felt so strong...she didn't know. I mean, I've always known it's possible I could meet some of my blood relatives, but...I didn't expect it to just come out of the blue. I hadn't been all that interested in searching for my birth parents until recently."

As Tony had said, it was a hell of a way to find out. Tim smiled. "Yeah, I wish it wasn't like this. But Abby will be really excited to meet you. It will mean a lot to her that you're here."

"I hope so." Kyle looked a little nervous, but that was to be expected. "Gibbs told me that Abby has a brother...I'm guessing he doesn't know anything either."

That was going to be another interesting conversation, one Abby should have been included in, but it seemed life had other plans. "Yeah, Luca will be here soon. I'm sure he'll love you. He's very nice." Luca had a big heart, and though it would be surprising news, Tim expected Luca would embrace Kyle once the initial shock wore off – and probably even before. The question would be whether to tell Luca right away, on the way from the airport to the hospital, or if it would be better for him to meet Kyle first and then explain. Tim supposed he could ask Carol – her flight landed first, and he knew Abby had told Carol about Kyle. Plus, she knew Luca better than Tim did. "Abby's best friend Carol is on her way, too. She'll really want to meet you."

"I have a rescue transport this afternoon, but I'll be back," Kyle said, rocking on his heels a little. "We've had a busy couple of weeks, so I ended up with a few days of comp time."

The tech who'd been taking care of Abby stepped into the room to tell them they could go back in to see her, and everyone looked around, as if to consult on who should go in next. Tony dipped his head down, whispering something to Ziva, and she nodded, then turned to Ducky. "Perhaps you should see her. You might be able to pick up on anything the medical staff is not telling us."

Ducky inclined his head in Ziva's direction, smiling. "Yes, as I don't maintain privileges at any civilian hospitals, I shall have to settle for visitor status while I'm here." He walked over to Tim and Kyle, then stopped and assessed Kyle. "It's entirely up to you, of course, but if you'd like, perhaps I could introduce you to your sister?"

Kyle opened his mouth, then closed it, swallowing hard. "Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks." He waved at Tim, then followed Ducky as the two were buzzed in to the ICU's locked entrance.

Tim moved to sit down on one of the couches, taking a seat beside Ziva. "Good idea, letting Ducky take a look at her." He waited for Tony to immediately protest that it had been _his_ idea, and when he didn't, Tim began to get a sense of how off their game they really were.

"He was in earlier, while you slept," Ziva said, "but I would not mind an update."

"Yeah," Tim agreed, "and he's a good one to talk to Kyle." He thought Gibbs might have been the one to make the introduction, but Ducky would be able to answer Kyle's questions, both medical and philosophical. Tim leaned back against the couch and checked his watch again. He'd set an alarm to remind him when he had to leave for the airport, but he didn't trust himself as much as usual and he didn't want to leave Carol, Luca, and Emma waiting in an already stressful situation.

Tony moved to sit on the other side of Tim and draped an unsolicited arm around his shoulders. "You do realize, Probie-wan, that when Abby's on her feet again and out of here, if you don't at the _very _least ask her out on a date, you're an idiot, right?"

Tim chuckled. As uncertain as his ultimate future was with Abby, Tony had a very valid point. "As reluctant as I normally am to take any kind of romantic advice from you, I have to agree."

Tony shrugged. "Hey, sometimes you need a big, blaring, boat horn of a wake-up call to figure out what you want."

That was true. Tim and Abby had both survived some close calls over the years, but nothing like this. This was the kind of thing that drove it home, how lost he would be without her. Even watching Tony's raging grief, when they thought Ziva had been killed, it hadn't quite sunk in for Tim, how it would be much the same for him. He'd joined Tony's suicide revenge mission for friendship, but Tony had been motivated by something else. And suddenly, Tim really understood that, not just intellectually, but personally. If he knew where the man who had done this to Abby was, Tim would tear apart heaven and earth to get there and make him pay. When Abby was up for it, they definitely needed to have a serious talk.

_"Up next, a chilling attack leaves one woman in critical condition and another missing. We have the latest updates and the community's response."_ The TV, left ignored on a local station, had transitioned to a repeat of the news. Tim reached for the remote to change the channel, but he paused at a video clip of Abby's apartment building. In the alley, crime scene tape was up and law enforcement was on the scene, but the small patch of grass next to the front stairs had been transformed into a shrine. Black candles and flowers, stuffed animals dressed in skull and crossbones outfits. The clip was only a few seconds, but it was enough to make Tim smile. Word was out, and people were uniting to send a message. Hate would never win.

* * *

TBC!


	6. A Blended Family

_Thanks for your patience with the wait! And double thanks for all the follows, favorites, and reviews!_

* * *

Perhaps he was a non-traditional parent for giving his eight-year-old an iPod filled with eighties metal band albums to keep her occupied through a three-hour flight, but Luca Sciuto could deal with that. He'd grown up with that music; his parents couldn't hear the lyrics, but they liked the beat. And so it had become a family thing. Abby had moved on, adding eclectic indie and Goth bands to her playlist along the years, but Luca preferred the classics. And, through exposure, so did daughter.

Through the wonder of airplane mode, Luca could distract himself with a variety of apps and games on his phone during the flight while Emma rocked out with his iPod, but it didn't help. He was deeply worried about his sister – and even though he trusted that Tim McGee was being as upfront with him regarding Abby's condition as possible, the Sciuto children had been raised never to assume anything. Tim had painted a grim but hopeful picture, but hope wasn't a luxury Luca could allow himself until he was at Abby's bedside. He considered using the in-flight phone to contact Tim, even given their ridiculous fees, but he didn't want to alarm Emma, who had the uncanny knack for being able to overhear things she wasn't intended to, despite being deaf in one ear.

Luca hadn't lied to Emma, of course. He'd told her a simplified version of the truth, that her auntie was hurt and they needed to visit. The circumstances of the crime were something he would try to deal with later. Luca didn't quite believe it himself yet. In the deep South, Abby's style had raised a few eyebrows anywhere outside New Orleans, but no one had ever threatened violence. With its melting pot of cultures, Luca had never even thought to be concerned for Abby's safety in Washington, DC – at least not for that reason.

Trouble seemed to find Abby a lot, but it had always worked out before – so well, in fact, that Luca never really heard about it until it was over. _"Oh, yeah, there was this guy I dated last year who went all stalker – don't worry, Gibbs took care of it."_ Or, _"Oh, my God, this crazy guy thought I was going to kill Tim and tracked me down. So freaky. But I'm fine. Team Gibbs on the job." _Part of it was her being his big sister, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily. Part of it was...well, the family. They didn't spend a lot of time worrying about things that could have happened, but didn't.

Emma tugged on Luca's sleeve, cheerfully signing at him without removing her headphones. _"How much longer?"_

_ "Two hours,"_ Luca signed back. He smiled. Perhaps it was because it was his first language, but there was something so much easier about ASL. He'd planned to teach it to Emma even before he knew she had partial hearing loss. It was a possibility that he and Abby had always known about, that their children might be partially or totally deaf. Most children of deaf adults accepted that long before their own children were ever conceived. What would be, would be. It was a lot easier growing up in today's world with hearing difficulties than the one his parents had known.

Emma perused the options on her playlist, selected a new album, and set the iPod in her lap to free her hands again. _"Did you talk more to-?" _Luca had no idea what she said next. With the limited vocabulary of ASL, some words served multiple purposes, but anyone with fluency was used to that. Emma's last word hadn't been any sign he recognized and he asked her to clarify. With a patented girlish eye-roll, Emma finger-spelled "Agent Tim," grinning and following up with, _"The cute one."_

Luca laughed. Once a part of the deaf community, one usually earned a "sign name," a single sign used in place of the tedious process of finger-spelling a friend or family member's name. Traditionally, it was a word or attribute that described the person and was assigned by someone else. Though making up signs was about as accepted as making up words in spoken language, Luca got it and mimicked the new sign as Emma showed him again. He was sure Abby had already given her friends sign-names; a person could have more than one, depending on who they spent time with. It would be interesting to compare notes once Abby was awake. After a moment, Luca realized he hadn't answered Emma's question. _"Not yet. We'll see him when we land."_

Emma sighed, resigned, and slunk back in her seat. Luca knew she was worried about Abby, too. He tried to prepare himself for seeing Abby beaten and bruised, and he just couldn't do it. He'd have to face it when he got to the hospital. He tried to breathe deeply and relax, but it wasn't happening. Shoving his phone into his pocket, he reached a hand out to Emma. She grinned and took the headphones' earbud out of her deaf ear and handed it to him, sharing the music as they'd done many times before.

Luca closed his eyes and let the blaring music of his childhood take the edge off as the flight continued.

* * *

"Hey, McGee!" Carol Wilson waved as she strode into the baggage claim area of Reagan International. Tim waved back and hurried over to her. She smiled, setting her backpack down, and held her arms out invitingly. "Come on, you know you want it."

Tim did want a hug, actually, very much, and he had been around Carol enough times that it was no longer awkward to kneel down to hug her properly. She wasn't offended, seeing it as a matter of simple logistics. Tim had learned he had a tendency to over-think things, probably the product of a politically correct society. "Hey, Carol. How are you doing?"

Carol hugged him tightly. "I should be asking _you_ that."

"It's been a long night," Tim admitted, standing up and walking with Carol to the carousel to pick up her luggage, "but the good news is, Abby's hanging in there."

Carol nodded, then looked down at the ground, anger flashing across her face. "Every time I hear about something like this, it always throws me for a loop. You think you find a safe place, where you can be yourself, and then, boom. Someone who just has to hate what they don't understand. It never gets any easier."

Tim put a hand on her shoulder. "It shouldn't." There was no easy time to bring it up, so he pressed on. "I don't remember if I told you – I honestly don't remember a lot of things I probably should right now – but Abby wasn't alone. Do you know a girl named Charity?"

Carol shrugged. "Know of her. She lives on Abby's block. She's kind of in the baby bat stage right now, but Abby's taken her under her wing." She frowned. "The news report said another woman was missing. I didn't know if they were related."

Tim sighed. "No one's seen Charity since last night. If she's scared, she's still in hiding." He preferred to think that was all it was, even though his instincts said otherwise. "Right now, Abby's the last person who saw her."

"Do you have any idea where she might be?" Tim asked, knowing it was a long shot.

"Hot Topic, maybe? A Marilyn Manson concert?" Carol laughed bitterly, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "I'm sorry. That's rude. I'm kind of tired."

"We all are," Tim assured her. "As soon as Luca and Emma get here, we'll be headed back to the hospital." In the back of his mind, though, something sparked. Despite Carol's sarcasm, she was onto something. If Charity was considered a "baby bat" – a Goth newbie, a descriptive term to some and derogatory to others – that narrowed things down a bit. She was probably younger. Alone, she wouldn't gravitate to the traditional Goth hotspots. It was actually good information to have. "You wouldn't happen to know Charity's last name, would you?"

"Not her real one," Carol said, "but she does go by Charity Skye online. That might help."

"Definitely might," Tim agreed, immediately texting the information to his contact at Metro PD. He did a quick web search for the name as well, finding a Facebook page – open to the public, definitely a newbie, Tim thought – and a tumblr account, neither with any activity since the previous evening. She'd mentioned going out with a friend, posting a picture of her and Abby. The time stamp was around nine PM, but it confirmed she was the woman they were looking for. It gave them a picture. And it gave him a photo of Abby, smiling and sipping on a Red Bull cocktail, arm around a friend, her beautiful face unmarred. Tim saved the photo to his phone and forwarded a copy to Metro. "Okay, that's a start. Now we have a picture of her." For all its problems, social media could be a godsend to an investigator.

Carol smiled, though it wasn't as bright as usual. "It's not a good sign, for her to be missing this long, is it?"

"No," Tim admitted. "But I've seen a couple of surprise happy endings. It could still happen."

Carol stepped in front of Tim to hoist her bag off the belt, allowing him to take it only after he insisted. She chuckled. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm used to being pretty independent."

"I know." Tim smiled as they walked toward a bench to sit and wait for Luca and Emma's flight to arrive. Tim sighed, wondering how best to bring the subject of Kyle up, so he finally just did it. "We found Kyle. Well, he found us, actually."

Carol gasped, her eyes widening. "That's great! I mean...the timing sucks, but it'll be so good for Abby to meet him." She frowned after a moment. "Let me guess. She hasn't told Luca yet."

"Nope." Tim shook his head. "Same reasons she probably gave you. She doesn't want to turn his life upside down."

"Well, it's already happened." Carol rubbed her hands over her face. "Those two. I swear, they'll be there for each other in a heartbeat, but God forbid they discuss anything potentially uncomfortable."

Tim sensed Carol was going somewhere with this, so he waited for her to continue.

"The thing is," Carol said, "Luca knows Abby was adopted."

Tim nearly dropped his phone in surprise. "He does?"

"Yeah, he called me about it a couple months ago, not too long after she found out," Carol explained. "He was cleaning out the family attic and found the adoption certificate, authorizing the re-issued birth certificate. It was what they did back then, still do in some cases – match the birth certificate to the adoptive parents. There's a whole controversy." She took a deep breath. "But, anyway, Abby's adoption was a completely closed one. No records to go on. Luca asked me what to do about it. He talked to a couple of aunts and uncles who are left and they all said the same thing, that no one wanted Abby to feel different or less than somehow, especially because Luca was born pretty soon after, so they never told her. I told him he needed to talk to her. I told her she needed to talk to him. They don't know that they both know."

It was convoluted, but Tim knew family matters often were. His family was a prime example. "Well, maybe this will go easier than I'd thought."

"Here's hoping." Carol shrugged. "We could certainly use anything easy on a day like today."

* * *

Luca and Emma's flight was delayed on the tarmac, but fortunately only for twenty minutes. Tim was anxious to get back to the hospital. He'd checked in with Gibbs, who assured him nothing had changed, but it would still be more comforting to be as close as possible.

As they arrived, Emma dashed over to Carol, hugging her. "Miss Carol!"

"Hi, kiddo." Carol wrapped an arm around Emma's shoulders as Luca caught up, then moved to hug him.

"Thank you for coming," Luca told her. "I know you went to an awful lot of trouble."

"That's what friends are for," Carol insisted. "She'd do the same for me."

Tim reached out to shake Luca's hand and was pulled into a hug, which he'd mostly expected. "How are you, Luca?"

Luca made a so-so gesture with his hand. "I've been better. But the important thing is, we're in this together. For Abby."

"Definitely," Tim agreed. They headed for the parking garage after grabbing Luca and Emma's bags. "So, ah, just to let you know, there's kind of a lot of us there at the hospital right now."

"So you've said." Luca smiled. "It's good to know my sister has so many people on her side."

"Yeah, it's pretty hard not to love Abby." Even when they fought, even when they were horrible to each other, they always made up and moved on. Tim just couldn't stay mad at her, and fortunately, the same had been true in reverse. "It's mostly the team and Ducky, but...there's someone else there, too."

"Oh?" Luca looked intrigued. "Who's that?"

Carol and Tim had decided to share the responsibility of bringing Kyle into the picture, and she jumped in. "We found Abby's biological brother. Or, rather, she did, unintentionally."

Luca stared. "I had no idea she had one. There was nothing that even suggested..."

Carol held up a hand. "Relax. She didn't know either, until she ran across the guy trying to donate a kidney."

Luca looked surprised, but only for a moment. "That's our Abby. Always trying to save the world."

"She tried to find him in the parish," Carol continued, "but then she realized things weren't adding up, so she ran your mother's DNA against hers."

"...from the hair in her locket," Luca murmured. "Yes, that's definitely our Abby." He was quiet for a moment. "So she does know."

"Yes," Carol confirmed, "and you two have been doing this lovely little dance of trying not to upset each other long enough. Obviously, it doesn't change how anyone feels. But it does add another to the equation. His name is Kyle Davis. He saw the news and he remembered Abby from the time she stopped into the animal rescue where he works."

Luca took a second to absorb that, then smiled. "The Lord works in mysterious ways. But, as far as I'm concerned, if he's family to Abby, he's family to me."

Emma, who had settled down into the backseat with an iPod, pulled one earphone out and looked interested. "What's that about family, Daddy?"

Luca's grin widened. "It seems you have an uncle now, too, Em."

"No way!" Emma crossed her arms, frowning. "Auntie Abby said I could be her flower girl when she got married!"

Luca laughed. "Not like that, sweetheart. Your auntie has another brother we haven't met yet."

"Oh, cool." Emma sat back, apparently satisfied. "I sure hope he likes gumbo."

Tim couldn't help but smile. Children always provided the most interesting perspectives in a crisis.

* * *

It had taken Luca and Kyle all of about thirty seconds to start bonding. Tim was pretty amazed, actually. It seemed kind of storybook, but, then, Abby's family had always been very open-minded and inclusive in their definition of family and apparently, so had Kyle's adoptive parents. Within minutes, Kyle was playing with Emma while Luca met the team.

Luca walked over to Tim while Carol made her rounds, meeting Kyle and greeting the others. Kyle didn't even bat an eye at her short stature, never stopping to ask if she preferred the term "dwarf" or "little person" like most did. It was as if he genuinely didn't notice, the way Abby always looked at others. Tim had attributed a lot of it to her being raised by deaf parents, with different abilities as the norm, but he wondered now if it wasn't part of her intrinsic personality. It could have sparked an entire nature versus nurture debate amongst Tim's MIT friends. He didn't care; he was just grateful for it.

"I'm going in to see Abby now," Luca told Tim. "I want to know what to prepare Emma for, and Carol wants a word with Dr. Mallard, one professional to another."

"Okay." Tim had noticed the tendency of many Southerners to ask favors in a roundabout way and had gotten used to it. "Would you like me to go with you?" He wanted to peek in on her again anyhow.

"If you don't mind." Luca signed in at the desk, getting his visitor's badge so he could be buzzed back. Tim fell into step beside him, leading him to Abby's room. Technically, they were only allowed two at a time and Gibbs was already with her, but one look from Gibbs usually got the staff reconsidering chasing him off so far.

Gibbs was sitting beside Abby, holding her hand, keeping watch. He tensed as Luca and Tim approached, but relaxed once he saw them. He stood up, smiling. "Hello, Luca."

"Agent Gibbs. It's been too long." Luca hugged Gibbs, then turned to Abby, sadness in his eyes, but offset with a fair amount of Cajun temper. "Oh, Abby, who did this to you?"

"That's what we're going to find out," Gibbs promised. He patted Tim on the arm as he stepped around the bed to allow Luca closer, then lowered his voice to talk to Tim. "Metro thinks they might have a lead on the girl; there are a couple of kids at some poetry club who think they might have seen her."

Tim knew full well hundreds of people suddenly remembered seeing a missing person in their mind, most trying to help, led by the power of suggestion. And he knew Gibbs was just trying to ease his mind a little. But he appreciated it all the same. "Thanks, Boss."

* * *

TBC!


	7. Between the Darkness and the Dawn

Blessedly, over the next day, Abby's condition remained stable. No news was good news at that point, as Ducky reminded them often. And, so, other than setting up a schedule to make sure Abby was never alone, Gibbs ordered his people home to get actual sleep in real beds. Vance had given them the week off; even though Abby wasn't officially part of the MCRT, everyone knew they were particularly close to her. He had even stopped in to see her, which Gibbs thought was a nice touch.

As expected, everyone but Ducky had protested their Gibbs-enforced eviction from the ICU waiting room. Ducky had been the one to nudge Gibbs in that direction, so he smiled and pretended he was reluctantly complying. It had taken awhile to chase Tony and Ziva off, and when they left together, a small part of Gibbs' brain wondered if they might not be considering sleeping in the same bed. But that was the least of his worries at the moment. McGee needed the break the most, but he fought the hardest. It was only when Luca agreed to leave the hospital as well that McGee was convinced – but only for the night. Gibbs didn't argue that; he knew everyone would return in the morning, himself included. Luca and Kyle were trading off on the bedside vigil that night; Kyle had been working odd hours lately. Emma was going home with Gibbs.

Despite his concern for his sister, Luca had known from the beginning Emma would need a proper place to sleep. She would not be moved the first night and had slept comfortably on one of the waiting room couches. But come morning, Luca had set to work finding a hotel. Unfortunately, there were several major business conferences and a Redskins game in town, and there were no reasonable rooms to be had anywhere close to the hospital. So Gibbs had stepped in and insisted they stay with him. Abby's apartment was still being investigated, even though the actual attack had taken place in the alley. It was the only option that made sense.

After kissing Abby goodbye for the night, leaving her under Luca's watchful care, Gibbs returned to his house with Emma in tow. She was excited; apparently, Abby had made out the place to be a lot more than Gibbs really thought it was in her stories. Gibbs smiled and let her babble on in the backseat, mostly listening and watching the rear view mirror to decipher her signs when she spoke too fast. Even when she was around hearing people, Emma still signed when she spoke as a matter of habit. She had been charmed to learn Gibbs also knew ASL.

It was late by the time they got to Gibbs' house, well past the time little girls should be in bed, even those who were used to Central Time. Emma was fighting it, but Gibbs had seen her rubbing her eyes and yawning on the trip home. He had retrieved Emma's and Luca's bags from McGee's car and carried them inside as he instructed Emma to let herself in. She laughed and asked if he had a security system to back up his open-door policy, and he assured her the house only needed one security system – him.

Emma changed into her pajamas quickly and settled down on the couch to read a book. Gibbs let her stall a little; there was too much going on to drop her in bed right away. But as she began to nod off between pages, he scooped her up and carried her down the hall.

Except for cleaning, Kelly's room was exactly the same as it had been when she died. Gibbs had left it as his personal shrine to her, just as he had never changed Shannon's décor in the bedroom. Looking at it every day hurt, so he mostly slept on the couch. But sometimes he needed the reminder. Luca would sleep in the guest bedroom, leaving Gibbs the couch, as usual, but although Luca and Emma could have shared a bed, letting her borrow Kelly's just _felt_ right. It was nice having a little girl sleeping in that room again. And though she looked nothing like Kelly, Emma was the same age, and as much as it tugged at his heart as he tucked her in the way he used to do with Kelly, Gibbs knew he'd made the right call. He felt Kelly would have approved. Emma's world was already topsy-turvy enough right now; the least Gibbs could give her was a bed meant for a girl like her. She sleepily signed _good night_ to him as she snuggled down between the _Little Mermaid_ sheets, and Gibbs kissed her on the temple. She was asleep within moments, her Rapunzel doll clutched to her chest.

Gibbs stood in the doorway for a few moments, watching her until he was satisfied she was soundly asleep. He changed his own clothes and settled down on the couch to wait for Luca, who was switching off with Kyle soon.

* * *

On one level, Luca barely knew Kyle, and on another, it felt like they'd been family forever. He just fit into things so well, and it was obvious how much Kyle cared for Abby, despite just meeting her. Blood ran thick – and even though Luca wasn't related to Kyle genetically, he was kin, in the most Southern sense of the term. So was Gibbs.

True to Southern form, Luca hated to feel like he was imposing on Gibbs, but if the situation had been reversed, Luca would have opened up his home in a heartbeat, and so he didn't let it bother him too much. Most importantly, it was the best thing for Emma, given their options.

Luca knocked on Gibbs' door, then opened it when he heard Gibbs say it was unlocked. He walked in to find Gibbs waiting on the couch with a book, one of Emma's _Monster High_ books on the end table beside him. "I wanted to thank you again, Agent Gibbs-"

Gibbs held up a hand. "I told you, it's just Gibbs. And you're Abby's family. That makes you my family, too."

Luca smiled. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you." He followed as Gibbs led him down the hall, pausing at the first bedroom they came to. Luca peeked inside, smiling at Emma, who was sleeping peacefully. Then he took in the rest of the room. It was a 1980's girl's paradise, and suddenly Luca knew who that room must have belonged to. Abby had told Luca of Gibbs' murdered wife and daughter. "Gibbs, you didn't have to-"

Gibbs nodded his head down the hall, motioning for Luca to follow. "Shh, you'll wake her." He stepped into a bedroom, tastefully not decorated in any particular style. "This is the guest room – feel free to settle in as long as you need."

"Thank you." Luca nodded. "You know, if it's easier for you, Emma can sleep in here with me after tonight."

Gibbs shook his head. "No, she's fine." His expression softened. "It's nice to have someone using that room again."

Luca smiled. He had no idea what he would have done if he ever lost his daughter; he couldn't imagine what Gibbs had gone through. But this wasn't the time to bring that up. Luca suspected Gibbs dealt with enough of those thoughts on his own anyway. "Thank you."

Gibbs smiled. "Like I said, family. Let me know if you need anything."

Luca nodded as Gibbs retreated down the hall. He'd worried for Abby when she took off on her own for DC, wanting to put her forensics skills to use for the government – and also knowing the area had a thriving Goth community. He'd relaxed a little when Carol took a job in the area as well, but it seemed Luca needn't have worried at all. Abby had found herself some amazing people – and there was no way they were going to let one idiot take her away from them. It gave him comfort as he settled down in bed and finally let himself get some sleep.

* * *

Tim had managed to pull himself away from Abby for the night under Gibbs' orders, but he was back first thing in the morning. He didn't sleep much, but if he was honest, it was better sleep than he'd been getting in hospital chairs. To his surprise, he ran into Jimmy Palmer in the waiting room. "Jimmy. Hi."

Jimmy waved in that awkward way of his. "Hi. I...well, I came to see Abby before work, but there was someone in there with her, and he was sleeping, so I didn't want to disturb him."

Tim smiled. "That's Kyle, one of her brothers. He won't mind. I was just about to trade places with him anyway." Technically, the visiting limit was still two, but if it was brief, the nurses hadn't policed it tightly – especially when they were changing shifts. Various staff members had commented on how nice it was that someone was always there for Abby...but it just made sense to Tim and his team. Until Abby was awake and fully aware of what was happening around her, she needed someone with her to ease the transition, to help as she needed it. The ICU staff was wonderful, but they had other patients, too.

"Are you sure?" Jimmy asked, nudging his glasses up on his nose.

"Yeah, of course." Tim smiled and gestured for Jimmy to join them. He led the way to Abby's room, a path he was intimately familiar with by now, and slid the glass door open. It closed behind them automatically. Kyle was sleeping in the chair, and Tim smiled, then turned to Abby. "Morning, Abby."

Jimmy gasped softly, and Tim understood. Even though she was healing internally, Abby's bruises had fully blossomed and she looked worse off. "Abby..."

Tim put a hand on Jimmy's back. "She really _is_ getting better. The bruises will fade. Her intracranial pressure is staying down, and that's what they're looking for." Technical terms were Jimmy's native language, and Tim figured it would help him process. "They've been talking about backing off on the sedation tomorrow and seeing how she does."

Jimmy nodded. "Well...that sounds hopeful." Anger was an unusual emotion to see on Jimmy's face, but Tim would have been more surprised if Jimmy hadn't been angry. "Would it sound really bad to say I want to do this guy's autopsy?"

Tim shook his head, smiling. "Not at all. I think you'd have most of us lined up to watch." He walked around to Abby's side and stroked her cheek gently. "You hear that, Abs? We're gonna nail this guy. You'd better be awake to see it."

Jimmy watched Tim, as if for cues, before touching Abby's arm lightly. "Yeah, Abby...listen...I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I just didn't want to get in the way...I mean, these guys have a lot more claim to you than I do..."

Tim moved back to Jimmy and squeezed his arm. "You're pretty close to her, too. You were always welcome."

Jimmy smiled and stroked Abby's arm, then checked his watch. "I'd better go...I don't want to be late. But...I'll come back after work, okay?"

Tim wasn't sure if Jimmy was asking Abby or him, but he answered since she couldn't. "I think she'd like that."

After trading with Kyle, Tim settled into the chair next to Abby and reached over the bed railing to hold her hand. The blood transfusions had been stopped since her lab results no longer showed significant anemia from blood lost during surgery, so she only had one IV in place now. It was progress. After watching his team members recover from gunshot wounds, stabbings, and other injuries incurred in the line of duty, Tim knew that patience was key. That didn't mean it was easy. He wanted to look into Abby's eyes and listen to her tell him that haters would never win. He wanted to be there when the anger finally surfaced and she needed someone to listen to her, to let her cry and rant. The stages of grief didn't just apply to death, and if Tim had learned anything over the years, it was that they were a lot more fluid than most people thought.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and he glanced at it. Sarah was calling. The timing was perfect, as Gibbs had just stepped in to check on Abby, so Tim was able to step outside the ICU to take her call. "Hey, Sarah, what's up?"

"Been hiding under the rock of thesis research," Sarah said. "I just saw the news. How are you?"

"I'm all right," Tim assured her. "Abby's getting better, slowly but surely." He was stepping lightly, knowing Sarah had never quite forgiven Abby since the time Tim had been attacked by Jethro the dog. Even seeing Tim later bond with the dog after an adjustment period, Sarah kept a grudge long after Tim had moved on from the incident. She was civil whenever she saw Abby, but there was ice behind it. Of course, he'd have probably done the same if Sarah had been the one slighted. After their mother died, when Penny wasn't around, it was them against their father and the world. Sarah had it easier with the admiral, being a girl, but she wasn't immune to feeling like she'd never measure up to his standards. "I know you don't exactly see eye-to-eye with Abby, but..."

Sarah snorted. "Geez, Tim, I'm not heartless. Even I can't find a way to think this was some way to get you to drop everything and focus on her. Sometimes, the world just sucks. Haters suck."

Tim declined to point out that Abby had often used those very words to describe people who felt the need to pick on others different from themselves. "Yeah. I'm okay, though. The police think they might have a lead on a suspicious guy who was seen hanging around the club that night. They're passing around footage from the security camera to the locals, that sort of thing. We're taking turns sitting with Abby so she doesn't wake up alone. She might even wake up tomorrow, if all goes well." Cutting back on the sedation didn't necessarily mean she'd wake up right away, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

"That's good," Sarah said, and she sounded genuine. "Just watch yourself, okay? Don't go all knight in shining armor just because you're both vulnerable."

It might have been too late for that, but Tim didn't want to have that conversation at the moment. "Penny likes her."

Sarah laughed. "Penny likes _everyone_."

"Oh, not _everyone_," Tim said, recalling the case his grandmother had found her way into. "I've seen her dark side."

"Bet that's not pretty," Sarah mused. "Anyhow, I've got to get back to Canterbury Woods, and I don't mean that subdivision we used to live in when we were in Annandale. I just wanted to check on you."

"I appreciate it." Tim smiled. "Don't study too hard."

Sarah scoffed. "Like you're one to talk."

Tim shook his head fondly as he tucked his phone back into his pocket after saying goodbye to Sarah. It had been nice to talk to her, even if only briefly. Penny had called him last night at home, and listening to her voice had soothed him like an oasis in the desert. Sometimes, practical as he was, Tim needed a little hippie talk in his life. He headed back in to see Abby, his spirits buoyed a little.

* * *

When Gibbs had kicked them out of the hospital, Ziva and Tony had returned to Tony's apartment. They'd been spending more time together than not lately, and it was only a matter of time before their relationship would have to go public. But considering that she wasn't even sure they knew where they stood, Ziva hoped that wouldn't be for awhile yet. They'd drifted off together watching _Air Force One_, eventually moving to the bed, too exhausted to do anything but actually sleep.

It had been Abby who'd given them the final push, if unintentionally. She'd been consoling Tony after a relationship gone wrong, and since _Avenue Q_ was in town, she figured it would be his sort of thing. He wasn't typically into musicals, but ones involving naughty puppets, that was another matter. After the show, Tony had shown up at Ziva's apartment, telling her about it. There were too many Americanisms she was unfamiliar with for her to follow everything – Bad Idea Bears? – but the line from one of the songs that had touched Tony resonated with her as well. _"You gotta go after the things you want while you're still in your prime..." _And that, the rare serious moment in a warped comedy, had been Tony's aha moment. He hadn't exactly declared his love on the spot – that would have been a bit suspect – but he wanted to give a relationship a try. And so did Ziva. So now they had...this, whatever it was.

Ziva suspected Tim had experienced his own aha moment in the last two days; she just wished it hadn't been so tragic. No one deserved this, Abby least of all. Ziva, who knew too well what it was like to be hated for who you were, had yet to embrace the peace Tim seemed to have found. She highly suspected it would disappear as soon as they caught Abby's assailant, and that was just fine with her.

They'd both fought it at first, but over the years, Abby and Ziva had become like sisters to one another. To lose her now would be like losing Tali. Ziva reassured herself with the doctors' hopeful words, but until she saw Abby leave the hospital under her own power, Ziva wouldn't be convinced. She'd been let down too many times before.

Ziva had volunteered for the night watch with Abby this time, and she knew the doctor had ordered the nurses to start slowly reducing the IV sedation, a little at a time, starting around midnight. By their estimates, she might come around as early as mid-morning. That was good, because everyone would be there by then. In the meantime, Ziva sat up with Abby, drifting in and out, but always ready to snap to full alert if needed.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, Ziva noticed one of the monitors was changing, and she could almost convince herself she'd seen Abby's face twitch. Nothing was alarming, and Abby seemed otherwise at peace, but Ziva asked about it when the nurse came into the room a few minutes later to make the latest adjustment to the IV pump.

The nurse studied the monitor and smiled. "That's a good sign, actually. That's the EEG, monitoring her brain activity...it's picked up because she's got less medication on board. That pattern is REM sleep."

"You mean she is dreaming?" Ziva asked, relieved that it was a good thing, but still concerned. The dreams that followed a major trauma were rarely pleasant.

The nurse nodded. "She probably won't remember it when she wakes up, no matter what it's about, but if she were distressed, her heart rate would be elevated as well. I don't think she's conscious enough yet to realize what's happened to her."

Ziva would have disagreed, given their experience with Gibbs' injury before he left for Mexico, but he'd been visibly agitated. As long as Abby was calm, Ziva forced herself not to worry. If nightmares came, her friends would be on guard. Ziva smiled and unconsciously began humming an old lullaby her mother had used to soothe her and Tali when they were young. On nights when their parents fought down the hall, Tali used to sneak into Ziva's bed and Ziva would sing it to her – and now, Ziva found herself singing it to Abby. "_Lyalkele, lyalkele, ay-lyu-lyu..._"

* * *

Though the sound was annoying, Gibbs had gotten used to the ventilator alarm going off every few minutes. It always stopped after a second, and though Gibbs knew better than to silence it himself, he was frequently tempted. It had started early in the morning, and he had been assured it was actually a positive thing – this particular alarm was due to the extreme sensitivity of the machine; Abby was breathing on her own between its pre-set breaths, and the alarm went off due to the pressure. To Gibbs, the solution was obvious – remove the ventilator, if she was breathing more than it liked. But medical logic was a baffling thing to Gibbs, and the respiratory therapist insisted it was best to wait until Abby was actually awake before extubating her.

Gibbs supposed he wouldn't have been bothered if it was a standard alarm, but for some reason, this thing had been programmed to play a merry little tune, and it was just overkill as far as he was concerned. "Less jarring, my ass," he murmured to Abby, stroking her hair. The bandages on her head had been removed to leave the healing wound open to air; it wasn't even visible when her hair was arranged the right way. They'd shaved off only the bottom layer over the surgical site, and while Abby wasn't a vain woman, Gibbs knew she would be grateful. Her hair was part of her style.

Abby turned her head toward the touch, and Gibbs smiled. As the sedation had eased, she had started responding to voices and touch, which thrilled them all, but made Ducky particularly happy. He said it was "a delightful predictor of her post-surgical neurological status." To Gibbs, it was just Abby coming back to them.

Though the nurses had been at first skeptical of Goth rock in the CD player, whatever they saw in Abby's brain wave response to it shut them up. McGee had retrieved a selection from Abby's lab, "more the supernatural stuff and less death metal," and while it still did nothing for Gibbs' ears, if it helped his girl, he was all for it. Also, a guy singing almost unintelligibly about zombies was the perfect counter to the ventilator's technological tune, which sounded suspiciously like "Mary Had a Little Lamb."

Gibbs' hand trailed down Abby's arm and he squeezed her hand. For the first time, she squeezed back, and he was elated. "That's my girl, Abs. Come on, I know you're there. Time to wake up."

It seemed like forever, at least three songs Gibbs still couldn't understand later, but eventually Abby blinked. Her eyes slid closed again quickly, and Gibbs touched her cheek. "Come on, Abby, you're safe."

Finally, it happened. Abby opened her eyes, still looking drugged, but definitely awake. Her eyes tracked to Gibbs' face and he smiled, holding her hand tightly after he hit the nurse call button. "Hey, beautiful. Welcome back."

The nurse on duty stepped into the room quickly – one of the few benefits of intensive care. "How can I help you?" She looked at Abby, then smiled. "Oh, you're awake. I'll let the doctor know."

"You do that," Gibbs told her, "but before you do that, have Agent McGee come in here and get someone to get that damned tube out of her throat."

* * *

_Thanks as always for all your support. I love my readers so much! In case you were wondering, Ziva's song is a popular Jewish lullaby – the verse she sings roughly translates to, "Sleep, my little doll."_

_ And, yes, the trend to be "less jarring" in medicine has lead to some obnoxious freaking machines. Trust me after listening to them all summer. (I'm a school nurse, but I take hospital jobs during the summer to get by.) -Ducky mode on- Though it does call to mind an amusing tale of an elderly woman who often made her bed alarm play Yankee Doodle in order to get her dementia-afflicted roommate to dance... -Ducky mode off- ...No, I did not make that up._

_ Stay tuned for more! Now that Abby's awake, it's time to have some real fun._


	8. Hope, Charity, and a Father's Joy

Abby was asleep more than not over the next twenty-four hours, but at least she was sleeping-sleeping and not drugged into unconsciousness. She was groggy when awake, which all the medical staff – including Ducky – assured everyone was to be expected. The team was still making someone was always with her, so she wouldn't wake up confused and alone, but things were looking brighter. Of course, they still couldn't assess her true mental status until the barbiturates were out of her system, but she responded well to those around her and while her throat was sore from the endotracheal tube, she could talk. It just wore her out, so she mostly didn't. It was weird, to see Abby awake and so quiet. Had to be the drugs.

Tim was taking the night watch, and he found himself smiling as he watched Abby sleeping peacefully, medicated so she would be out of pain, with only oxygen tubing under her nose instead of that awful-looking ventilator. Sometimes he held her hand, her fingers sleepily curling into his, and sometimes she fidgeted, as if trying to find the most comfortable position – not easy, Tim knew, with broken ribs, never mind the abdominal and head injuries.

Not unexpectedly, Abby had no memory of anything between her leaving the club with Charity and waking up in the hospital. Frankly, unless it helped find Charity, Tim hoped she'd never get those memories back. Abby had asked about Charity, and Tim let Gibbs handle that one, with the grace the boss only ever showed around Abby. _"We're trying to track her down to ask her some questions about that night. She's probably pretty scared."_ Tim hoped Charity was all right enough to be scared, but he certainly wasn't going to discuss the matter with Abby just yet. He made sure they were watching an old movie when the evening news normally aired. There were leads, some promising, but the only thing solid so far was that no body had been found. But, as Tim knew all too well, the more time that passing, the less reassuring that was. He and his team had found many bodies, some quite old, in a variety of unexpected places.

Somehow, through idle channel-flipping, Tim had found a series of channels originating in the hospital intended for patient education. He always changed it to _The_ _New Parent Network_ when Abby was awake, because seeing the babies made her smile. While she slept, he watched _Your Body and You_, the anatomy and physiology channel. It was basic enough material that he wasn't actually learning anything new, but it kept his interest and it was better than anything else on at that hour. Eventually, he drifted to sleep as well, as a man in a white lab coat continued his presentation on the four chambers of the heart and their individual functions.

Some time later, Tim awakened at the sound of Abby's voice. "What was that?" he asked, afraid he'd missed an important request.

"S'okay, Timmy." Abby's voice was still raspy, but it was improving. She reached out toward him and he moved closer so she could wrap her arm around his, smiling. Fortunately, it was the arm without the IV, so Tim didn't have to worry about accidentally pulling anything out. She wriggled a little, then winced, as if discovering that was a bad idea. "Did I get a new tat that night? My back itches."

Tim drew in his breath. This was another conversation he'd been dreading, and he tried to think of a way to approach it similar to Gibbs' answers about Charity. He wouldn't lie, but he didn't want to burden her with everything just yet. "Your back got scratched up pretty good when that guy went after you. It'll heal."

Abby nodded, seemingly satisfied, then frowned. "It didn't mess up the cross, did it? That was one major piece of work."

That, fortunately, Tim didn't have to worry about. The damage had only been to her upper back. "No, just missed it. Your art is still intact."

"Oh, good." Abby smiled, settling back against the pillows. "What's on _Animal Planet_?"

"Infomercials." Now Tim _was_ lying, but it was one he could get away with; it was the middle of the night. They were showing a marathon of _Animal Cops_ and Abby barely got through an episode without half a box of tissues on a good day. "I think that channel with the baby care classes is still running, though." He had to assume somewhere in the hospital, at least one parent was up feeding their newborn.

"Okay." Abby agreed readily. "I love watching them. They're so cute and innocent..." Her eyes closed for a moment, and she was asleep before she finished her sentence. Tim kept the TV tuned to _Baby Burritos: Swaddling Like a Pro_, just in case, however. And who knew? The knowledge might come in handy some day.

* * *

Luca had been fond of Gibbs for a long time, based on how Gibbs cared for Abby, but he was especially charmed to see Emma attaching herself to the man, too. She followed him around the house when they had left the hospital for the night. Emma cheerfully offered to add "a little Cajun style" to Gibbs' cooking. He laughed and made her his helper.

It had been a great relief to see Abby awake that day and to talk with her, not just to her. She had been delighted to see Emma, and though the hugs had to be extra-gentle, they were no less joyous. They'd explained the situation to Abby only partially – that she had been attacked, that Tim found her. She deserved and would get the full truth in time, but everyone agreed she needed to focus on recovering physically at first; there would be plenty of time to work on the emotional.

Emma and Gibbs were laughing together in the kitchen over some shared sign language joke, which Luca hadn't seen the punchline to, and Luca smiled. Those two were getting on wonderfully. Emma had grown up hearing stories of her auntie's beloved Gibbs, and Luca knew Gibbs' daughter had been Emma's age or close to it when she died. Luca found a family photo in the living room, hidden in its frame amongst books on a shelf, and he'd taken a peek. Gibbs' girls had been beautiful, and the family looked truly happy. Such a tragedy. It made him want to hold onto Emma extra tightly. He didn't often feel lucky regarding his nasty custody battle, but he did thank God every day he'd realized what was going on in time to save Emma from harm, that he'd won sole custody, that he even had a little girl to fight for.

Once Emma was in bed, Luca settled down near Gibbs on the couch, watching a black and white Western. Before closed captioning, his parents had to try lip-reading to understand what was going on in a show or movie, and that was hard to do when the camera was never constantly on the speaking actor's face. But closed captioning was definitely in place by the time Abby and Luca were children, so their parents were able to enjoy some of their peers' childhood classics for the first time. Their father had been a particular fan of John Wayne. Their mother still preferred old silent films, despite not hearing the tinny piano (and perhaps better off for it, in Luca's estimation). She'd been delighted the year Abby had gone through the family attics and put together an ensemble befitting Keystone star Mabel Normand for Halloween one year. Their parents, all in all, had been very wonderful, loving, accepting, nurturing people. They didn't quite understand Abby's identification with the Goth community, but once they realized her religious roots were still firm, there were no arguments.

_"She can dress up in a Big Bird suit and sing 'Tiptoe Through the Tulips' if she likes,"_ Joseph Sciuto had signed, his accompanying expression giving away the humor, _"but no daughter of mine will be selling her soul to the devil for concert tickets."_ For weeks afterward, Abby would sneak up on him and make the devil horns sign, making them both laugh. Luca truly missed the time they'd had as a family, and he knew Abby did, too. But he'd found surrogate family in his friends down South, and Abby had done the same up here. They still had a legion of eccentric aunts, uncles, and cousins to turn to when they needed a little official family support, even if Auntie Mildred kept fifteen cats – all meticulously cared for – and cousin Beauregard spent every night playing "Candy Crush Saga" on Facebook. Luca let Emma onto his Facebook account to challenge Beau on weekend nights. She was pretty good. Luca always kept an eye out for her when she was on the computer, but he had nothing on Facebook he didn't want her to see, because he knew when she was thirteen, she probably would find it, deleted or not – just ask Auntie Abby. But Emma was a sneaky one and inevitably would claim she was chatting with Mee-Maw (her mother's mother, who was actually sane and did keep in touch). She was, at least part of that time, based on logs. But there were always several little status updates left on Luca's wall the next morning. _"I have the coolest kid ever, hahaha!" "I am a super cool daddy!" _He found it cute, so he let it slide – his friends always addressed their replies to Emma anyhow.

Luca smiled, reviewing the last weekend's Emma Fest on his page, along with an outpouring of prayers and well-wishes for Abby, closer to the top. He considered sharing it with Gibbs, but highly suspected Gibbs didn't really get Facebook. And as warm and welcoming as Gibbs was, he wasn't much of a talker. It felt awkward to sit next to Gibbs, just looking at cat memes to pass the time. It ran against the grain of Southern social training. But it _was_ a friendly silence, and after a bit, Luca learned to just go with it.

"Heard anything from McGee?" Gibbs asked after awhile. Tim had promised to contact them if anything significant happened.

Luca shook his head. "No. I've been assuming no news is good news."

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah. He's too smart not to call for something important."

Luca had complete faith in that. He hoped Tim was getting some sleep while Abby did. He sipped on his beer and watched with Gibbs as Jess and Slim rounded up bandits on an episode of _Laramie_. And while, at heart, he was basically a pacifist, Luca couldn't help but hope for a little Old West justice when it came to his sister's attacker. He and Abby had been raised to turn the other cheek, but when that one got slapped too, it was time to take care of the problem.

* * *

He had scrubbed her makeup off with a rough washcloth, taking no care to keep soap out of her eyes. He had forcibly dyed her aqua hair to a dull brown, leaving splotches of dye everywhere. Her clothes were either ripped or cut off of her body, and he'd forced her to put on something of his choice or risk consequence. Shivering and scared in only her panties, she didn't even want to think about what he had in mind, and she quickly complied. She was tied to a chair during the day, her wrists sore from the bindings, and she was forced to allow him to feed her if she wanted to eat. Biting his fingers quickly concluded the meal. She was handcuffed to the bed at night, and when she dreamed of being bound and gagged while he forced her to watch him beat another girl, she woke up screaming. No one ever came, which was fine, because if she screamed too loud during the day, she got backhanded. The only comfort she had was knowing the other girl was alive – or some girl was – because she heard similar screams from the next room.

Her name was Amanda. Well, it had been. Now he called her Sara. She didn't dare respond to anything else. She was a college student, new to the area, raised by foster parents who still called her every week to see how she was doing. But they lived in North Carolina and if she missed the weekly phone call, they always gave her a few days to get back to them before getting worried. She only had a couple of friends in the area, casual acquaintances from class. Her roommate in the dorm had just dropped out. No one was going to miss her until it was too late, and she'd resigned herself to that. Her lip and nose piercings, roughly removed, were beginning to heal, and she had lost track of how long she'd been there, in his dingy, dimly-lit chamber of horrors. It looked like some kind of basement, further reducing the chance that someone outside might finally hear her if she screamed loud enough.

But she waited. And hoped. Because the girl in the next room sometimes yelled about friends who worked for the government. And even if that girl was crazy, hope was hope. And without hope, she probably would have gone crazy and convinced herself she was Sara by then.

When he burst in, dragging the other girl behind him, Amanda tensed. She didn't think she could stand to watch the girl be beaten again. But, no, this time, it was her turn, her fellow captive an unwilling audience. But this time when he was done, he shoved them both together on the floor, handcuffed back to back. It was like something out of an old, creepy movie.

Once she was sure he was gone, Amanda whispered to the other girl. "Hey, you okay?" Granted, under the circumstances, "okay" was a highly relative term.

"I think so," she replied. "Are you?"

"Yeah." Amanda guessed that while their captor had called the other girl Ashley, that wasn't really her name. Their matching sloppy brown dye jobs had been her first clue. "I'm Amanda. What's your name?"

There was a quiet, strangled sob before the girl answered, "Charity."

* * *

When the morning light woke Tim again, Abby was already awake, but quiet, watching a _Discovery Channel _special on mother animals adopting babies of another species. A tiny squirrel snuggled and tumbled with its kitten siblings, and Tim smiled. "Good morning."

Abby returned the grin. "Morning." She wrinkled her nose. "I feel so grody. Do you think I can take a shower or something?"

"I can ask." Tim shrugged. He knew they had been bathing her in bed, but that was hardly the same as a real shower. "How's your pain?"

Abby chuckled. "Oh, they just gave me some of the good stuff, so now would be a real good time."

Tim agreed; better to experiment with moving around while she was freshly medicated. He went to find a nurse, who told him a shower was still out, but they could see if Abby would tolerate being up in a wheelchair so she could wash herself up in the bathroom. She handed him a bucket of supplies, including dry shampoo, saying, "As long as she doesn't get her bandages wet." After Tim assured her they would be careful and he would call if Abby got dizzy being up or there were any other problems, he headed back to the room so they could wait for the nurse to pop in and disconnect the monitors temporarily. The IV pole was mobile.

Abby was a little disappointed at the prospect of anything less than a proper shower, but she understood. She winced and groaned a little, but as long as Tim supported her left side, she was able to bear weight on her right leg and transfer to the wheelchair. Ducky had warned them Abby might find her left side a little weaker for awhile, but it was mostly just that leg. She held on to Tim with both arms just fine.

When they got to the bathroom, Tim closed the door. "Are you sure you want me to be the one to help you with this?" he asked. "I could get a tech."

Abby gave him a fond look. "It's okay, Timmy, you've seen me naked. And I'd rather you than some stranger...or my brothers."

She made a good point – and she was definitely less drugged, which was also good. "What about Tony?" Tim teased.

Abby laughed, then braced her ribs with an arm. "Don't do that; it hurts."

"Sorry," Tim said – but hearing her laugh had been delightful. He helped Abby untie the hospital gown and pull it away, trying not to react as he saw the rainbow array of colors her bruises had become. He kept his hand on Abby's arm, remembering that she was seeing the full extent of what had been done to her for the first time. "Abs? You all right?"

She nodded, slowly, still taking it in. "Yeah. It's just...wow. This whackadoodle really did a number on me and I don't remember any of it."

"Maybe that's a blessing," Tim pointed out. He hated even imagining it; he couldn't imagine experiencing the horror of what really happened. He was still glad he didn't remember his car accident – though he wished his father's reaction was included in that block of amnesia.

"Maybe." Abby didn't sound convinced. "Can you help me stand up? I want to see everything."

By everything, Tim was sure she meant – well, _everything_, including her back – and he was hesitant. But she would find out sooner or later; and she certainly had a right to know. He let her wrap her arms around his neck and put his around her waist, supporting her as she stood and turned her head to see her back in the mirror. She gasped as she saw the horrible words scratched there, right above the ornate cross tattoo – healing, but still angry and visible. She began to sag, and Tim gently lowered her back down to the wheelchair. "I'm sorry, Abby. They said there shouldn't be much scarring, not enough to know what was originally there."

Abby looked down at the floor, holding Tim's hand, still in shock. "I knew people could be awful, but..."

Tim reached for the hospital gown to cover her, knowing she had to feel vulnerable and not wanting to add to it, but she reached her other hand out. "No. I want to get cleaned up."

"Okay." Tim admired her determination – and it made sense, to do it now, while she was in as little physical pain as possible. He ran the waterless shampoo through her hair, careful of the surgical site, while she used the soap and wash cloth on her body, making sure to keep the abdominal bandage dry. It was a slow, cautious process, but they were able to finish before Abby got too exhausted.

Tim helped Abby back to bed, just as the nurse came in to check on them. She hooked Abby's monitors up again, looked her over, and departed. A few moments later, Tony and Ziva came in.

"Hey," Tony greeted them, waving. "How's our girl?"

"Alive," Abby replied, her eyelids drooping.

Tony winced sympathetically. "That bad, huh?"

Ziva was more perceptive of Abby's exhaustion. "Perhaps we should return later, after you've rested."

Abby tried to protest, but it didn't get far before she gave in to her body's needs. Ziva and Tony slipped out. Once he was sure she was asleep, Tim stepped out of the room to join them in the waiting area. Gibbs was arriving with Luca and Emma, and Luca took Emma in to sit with Abby while Tim talked to his team. They'd update Luca, of course, but it was probably best to do so away from a child who was exceptionally skilled at lip-reading.

"So what's the deal, McTim?" Tony asked. It was the least inventive of his nicknames – and, particularly lately, a meter to gauge his level of concern. He didn't put as much imagination into things when he was worried. Gibbs and Ziva turned similar concerned expressions Tim's way.

"Well, the good news is, Abby's a lot more alert," Tim informed them. "But...that means things are starting to sink in."

"I had suspected," Ziva admitted, nodding. "I realize she is recovering, but she did not seem like herself at all."

Tim nodded. "She saw the marks on her back when she got cleaned up today. I think that really upset her." He cringed internally at the mention of upsetting Abby in Gibbs' presence, but they had all known it was going to happen eventually. "I think she's dealing as best she can."

Gibbs nodded thoughtfully. "Then we stick with the plan. We're there when she needs us."

None of them could argue with that. Tim turned to Tony. "Anything new on Charity? She hasn't asked again yet, but I have a feeling that's gonna be next." Tony and Ziva had been using the team's downtime to follow the Metro case – unofficially, of course.

"Nothing solid," Tony said, shaking his head. "Yesterday, a professor at George Mason reported to Fairfax police he hadn't seen a student of his in a few days and that was unusual for her. Thought it might be Charity – according to her online profile, she goes there – but it was another girl, Amanda. No way to know if they're related, but the college drama club picture of Amanda has her with blue hair and dark makeup, so no one's dismissing a connection. Detectives are out questioning people who claim to have seen a lurker outside The Shadowbox, but you know how it is with eyewitnesses."

Ziva nodded. "Also, we have no idea if Amanda was a client there or if that's even related."

"And that's all we can tell you without asking actual people questions who would tell us to back off," Tony concluded.

Gibbs nodded. "Good job." He shook his head. "I know it was the middle of the night, but how did no one hear anything in that alley? You don't beat a woman half to death without a sound." His jaw was set firmly, and Tim recognized the look as barely controlled rage. "Someone's afraid to come forward."

"Probably," Tim agreed. "But until we find them, the only person who we know was there is Abby – and she'll probably never remember what happened."

Tony pulled out his phone. "I'll see if my 'unnamed source' can light a fire under someone's ass."

"Do that," Gibbs said. "And if they're not doing it already, have them go through registration and find out Charity's real last name."

"On it, Boss," Tony confirmed, stepping out in the hallway to place his call.

Ziva sighed. "In the meantime, we hope for a miracle."

Tim smiled. When he thought about it, most of the rescues they'd made – including Ziva's – were against the odds. "Fortunately, we specialize in those."

* * *

_For those curious, the title of the chapter refers of course to Amanda and Charity's predicament, and peripherally to Luca's feelings for Emma, but also to Abby herself. "Abigail" means "Father's joy."_


	9. Baby Steps

_Happy 2013! I'm looking forward to the new episodes of NCIS starting next week...mostly. Based on the episode titles, Ziva's gonna get some great moments, but if they don't do what most of the fandom thinks they're going to do, it could be interesting. And I will say no more to preserve the spoiler-free amongst us. (I, however, am a spoiler freak, so if you feel the need to squee over anything juicy, PM me.) And now, back to our feature presentation..._

* * *

The gravity of what had happened to her was really beginning to set in for Abby, and she had finally broken down and cried in Gibbs' arms when he'd come in to see her. He held her until he was sure she was asleep and eased her back into bed, then went in search of coffee. He was staying with Abby tonight and he dared any of his team to argue with him. If they wanted to join him, they could, but he wasn't going anywhere.

As Gibbs passed through the waiting room, he stopped and frowned at the unexpected figure waiting for him. "Tobias, what the hell are you doing here?"

Tobias Fornell stood and shook his head at Gibbs. "Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"I don't know if I'd call us 'friends,'" Gibbs teased.

Fornell snorted. "So I guess you don't want to know how the case is going."

That got Gibbs' attention. "You're on this?"

"Like white on rice," Fornell assured him. "Metro's got the lead, but FBI is in step – and, yes, we're working with your guys, even though NCIS is technically not assigned." His smile was grim. "Abby may be a civilian, but she _is_ a government employee, and if the girl who disappeared in Virginia is involved, this crosses state lines. But, truth be told, even my guys are pretty fond of your lab tech."

Gibbs nodded. "You'll keep me in the loop?" He knew Fornell would know exactly what he meant; he didn't just want updates. He wanted to be as involved as was possible without actually crossing the line. For Abby, he _would_ have crossed the line, but Vance would be quick to stop him.

"Of course." Fornell nodded. "I'll get the bad guy. You take care of your girl." The look in his eyes suggested he meant that in the vein of the personal relationship between Gibbs and Abby, and there was no room for Gibbs to argue. Abby was family to him, and she always would be. "How's she doing?"

"Tired," Gibbs said. He wasn't going to dish all of Abby's problems and he knew Fornell didn't expect him to. They were both all too familiar with the emotions involved with recovering from a serious injury. "She's going to be on the mend for awhile, but she'll make it."

Fornell smiled. "I don't know a more determined soul. Let me know if there's anything the agency can do for you."

By "the agency," Gibbs knew Fornell meant him personally, but to say it aloud would violate the unwritten code they had established. "Thanks."

"You'll be hearing from me," Fornell promised.

"I'd better." Gibbs shook his hand and watched Fornell go, then continued on his mission to find a decent cup of coffee. If Gibbs couldn't be involved in the investigation personally, this was the next best thing.

* * *

Since she'd discovered the marks on her back, it had taken a lot more than usual to make Abby smile. But, fortunately, Emma still had the power. It certainly didn't hurt that she was extraordinarily cute – though that was, admittedly, Luca's biased opinion.

Emma was cheerfully perched on the end of Abby's bed, hands flying as quickly as she spoke. Abby laughed and responded to her questions. She was having some trouble with her left side, still, but her arm was stronger than her leg, and if she propped it up on a pillow, she found it easier to make her signs clear. The doctors were hopeful that would clear up in time; Abby's latest brain scans indicated the damage wasn't permanent. She would need physical therapy, but she wasn't facing any permanent disabilities. The neurologist warned she might struggle with migraine headaches for the next several months, but that seemed mild in comparison to what could have been.

Emma was very bright, but it was never easy managing two different languages at the same time. She sometimes ended up signing something different from what she was saying, though the two thoughts were never far removed. Abby had done the same when she was Emma's age. Their mother had laughed, saying, _"She speaks what's on her mind and signs what's in her heart."_ It was true of Emma as well. She didn't do it often, but it was usually when she was worried – and she'd had ample reason to worry lately about her beloved auntie.

Abby had noticed it, and when Emma left briefly to go to the bathroom, she frowned at Luca. "Em's pretty upset, huh?"

Luca nodded. He could pad the truth, but he couldn't lie. Abby always saw right through him. "We were all worried." Emma's tone had been light and chipper, talking about how she was glad to see Abby recovering, but when she signed, _Please don't die_, it had nearly broken Luca's heart. He had vowed never to over-shield his daughter from the world, but he wished she didn't have to deal with this. He wished none of them had to deal with it. "She'll be okay. You just worry about getting better."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," Abby sighed. "I want to put this behind me, too. But...it's hard. Charity's still out there, somewhere, and no one knows if she's okay."

Typical, for Abby to worry about her friend before her own recovery. "We'll find her, Abby."

Emma bounced back into the room, and Abby immediately redirected the conversation to happier things. "So, tell me about your school."

Emma lit up at the invitation. "Well, it's really big, and it's fun. Some of the kids are totally deaf and some are just part-way, like me. I play with my friend Rebecca at recess. She's lots of fun."

Abby smiled. "What do you guys play?"

"Lawyer," Emma said, grinning. "Sometimes princesses, but mostly we play lawyer. It's our favorite game. Rebecca's mommies are both lawyers, so they help us sometimes when we play at her house. We hang out a lot."

Abby nearly choked and Luca startled. It had nothing to do with what Emma had said, but rather what she hadn't. Luca didn't want to freak out unnecessarily, but "hang out" was _not_ what Emma had signed and Luca was pretty damned sure she hadn't picked that one up from _Signing Time with Alex and Leah_. "What did you just say hang out was?" Emma repeated the sign, blinking innocently, and it was definitely the sign for a decidedly adult act. "Where did you learn that?"

"One of the sixth grade boys," Emma replied, and Luca began to relax a bit. Sixth grade boys were known for their love of adult humor and lack of maturity to accompany it. He'd been one once. "I asked him what the sign for 'hang out' was, and that's what he said."

Luca laughed. This would be a delightful story to embarrass Emma with when she was, perhaps, thirty. "Next time, clear anything new with me, okay? That is _not_ how you say it. Try this." He showed her the proper corresponding sign, and she mimicked it delightfully before returning to her story.

"So, when me and Rebecca play lawyer, one of us is the lawyer and the other one is a bad guy the lawyer put in jail, but they escaped. So they chase the lawyer and she has to call the police and find something to put them back in jail with because they're smart and she can't prove it's them and there's that whole double jeopardy thing..."

As usual, Luca didn't know whether to be proud that his eight year old knew what double jeopardy was or mystified at the intense, G-rated crime drama his daughter and her best friend played out every day.

* * *

By the end of the day, the neurologist had decided that Abby was doing too well to justify staying in the ICU much longer. He still wanted her monitored closely, but he felt comfortable sending her to the hospital's step-down unit. The order was written, and she would be transferred in the morning. It was definitely a step in the right direction, and they had recently instituted a twenty-four hour visitation policy. The other benefit was that the step-down unit had wireless monitors, enabling Abby to get up and move around a lot easier.

Tim would miss the comfortable chairs of the ICU, but that was all he would miss. He held Abby's hand lightly as they watched their new favorite after-hours channel – the one with the babies, of course. Gibbs was just outside, and Tim was going to let him take the night watch, but Tim took his time saying goodbye. Every moment he looked at her, even battered and bruised, he wondered how he could have let their relationship fall apart. He didn't dare bring it up with Abby; she had more than enough on her plate right now. But they would talk, in time. He had to know if she felt the same or he was just wasting his time. Gibbs had to have noticed something, but so far, he'd said nothing. Tim doubted that would last once Abby was back on her feet, but he didn't want to have that discussion right now anyway. What would he say? _Yeah, Boss, I'm nuts about her, but I have no clue what she thinks about it. Could you ask her for me? _Yeah, right.

Abby gazed out the window at the city lights, glowing bright in the darkness. For whatever random reason, it made Tim think of the song "There's a Light," from _Rocky Horror Picture Show_. He and Abby had been to local showings quite a few times, both as a couple and not. It was just good fun, those rare weekends when neither had anything else to do at midnight on Saturday. If he'd thought it through twice, he probably wouldn't have done it, but he leaned toward Abby, singing to her softly. "Darkness must go, down the river of nights dreaming..."

Abby turned, gracing him with a smile, and sang the next lyric. "Flow morphia slow...let the sun and light come streaming..." She had a beautiful voice, though she rarely sang. Tim knew she had been in a band in college, so he wondered why she didn't show off her non-scientific talents more often.

In a musical, they both would have continued the song, into a grand duet, but they left it where it was, both grinning at each other as if they'd shared some deep secret. Tim kissed Abby on the forehead, letting his hand linger on her cheek for a long moment. "Abs, I know this is a rough time for you, but hang in there, okay? We're all here to help you, but you'll have to let us."

Abby nodded, biting her lower lip briefly. "I know." Whether she would follow through would remain to be seen, but Tim had hope. Abby couldn't do this alone, and he sensed she knew that. She squeezed his hand tightly. "Timmy...thank you. For everything. You didn't give up."

"Would you have given up on me?" Tim asked, and they both knew the answer to that question.

Abby shook her head slowly. "I see your point. But...thank you."

"Always, Abby." Tim stole another kiss, this one to her cheek, then stood. "I'd better get home before Gibbs throws me out personally. I'll see you in the morning"

"See ya." Abby waved and blew him a kiss. Her voice stopped him in the doorway. "Tim?"

Tim turned. "Yeah?"

Abby smiled. "You're special."

Tim grinned at her as the words warmed his heart. "No, not really. But I'm glad you think so."

* * *

_Bonus shipper points to anyone old or geeky enough to recognize where I adapted Abby and Tim's last exchange from. I love that scene so much._

_ Sorry for the shorter chapter, but this is the best breaking off point, given what I have in mind to play out next. :) And in case you're wondering, I played "Lawyer" with the neighbor girl when I was a kid. I have no idea where we came up with it, especially since no one in either of our families was a lawyer. We used to stalk each other all over the military base we lived on... (Interestingly enough, her name was Kelly. She got me hooked on the Internet...ah, youth.)_

_ Thanks as always to everyone who reads, reviews, favorites, or likes. You really know how to make a writer smile!_


	10. Ally, Enemy, Sister, Friend

_So this is not actually a full chapter, exactly. It was meant to be a tag to chapter 9, but it gave me such fits getting there that I let it simmer. I was going to upload it as 9.5, but to do that would mess up my numbering and my OCD will not stand for it. So, a short Chapter 10. Add it to 9 and there's a full chapter in there somewhere. :-D More soon, promise._

* * *

When Tim arrived home, Sarah was waiting for him, having already made herself comfortable. She had a first-person shooter running on his desktop and a cup of hot tea beside her. In his favorite mug. Tim shook his head. "Remind me to change the locks tomorrow."

Sarah held up a hand, finished her kill, then paused the game and turned to him, smiling cheerfully. "Well, what's a girl to do? My roommate brought her boyfriend over. Pretty sure he's staying the night."

Had Sarah still been living in the dorms, that might have been a viable excuse – not that Tim really minded having her over, but he had to play the game. Now that she was working on her graduate degree, she'd moved into an apartment near campus. "Do what I always did. Go into your room, put on headphones, and ignore it."

"And _that_ is how you ruin a perfectly good roommate relationship." Sarah crossed her arms, pursing her lips playfully. "We share an apartment and costs. Sometimes a meal. Sexual exploits? Never."

Tim sank into a chair. "You'd be amazed what you put up with when you don't have any other options." He glanced at the framed photo of Jethro on the end table. He missed having the furry nuisance around, but the apartment was too small and Tim was away too often. He lived with Tim's friend in Virginia now, with a huge backyard and two Huskies. Tim visited him frequently, often taking Abby, and it had worked out for all involved parties. Sometimes, though, Tim wished he had the time for a pet. Tony had his fish, but Tim didn't consider fish to be great companions, no matter how hysterical it was to watch Tony show off pictures of his goldfish to the team. Like all of those who'd known her, Tony still missed Kate, and if he had to dote on the fish he'd named after her to deal with his grief, at least it was healthier than some of the other options. Never one to knock something before he'd tried it, Tim had, in fact, owned a dark blue betta fish once. It went belly-up before he could even name it and thus Tim concluded he was not destined to be a fish owner.

Sarah saved her game and turned around to face him. "I can't believe you still have _Peggle Nights_ on your computer. Does anyone play that anymore?"

Tim shrugged. "I find it relaxing."

Sarah nodded. "Yeah, I see your point. I beat all your high scores, by the way."

Tim shook his head. With his sister, if it wasn't that, it would be something else. "How long have you _been_ here?"

"Only a few hours." Sarah grinned, challenging him. "I'm just that good."

Tim was tempted to give Sarah her own partition on his hard drive just so she'd stay out of his stuff, but that would only encourage her. Still, it was nice going home and having a distraction that did not come with the threat of catastrophe. "I hope you ate already, because I'm not cooking." He'd grabbed a burger on the way home, not expecting company.

"Yeah, I'm good." Sarah stared at Tim for a long moment, that way she did when she was trying to size him up. She had the same gift for it that their father did, but Sarah did it with a much softer edge. Still, it made Tim squirm. "If you're getting twitterpated, I'm gonna have to smack you."

Fortunately, with Sarah, Tim could do something he couldn't do with the admiral – deflect with humor. "That's hardly proper grammar, especially coming from an English major." He sighed as she continued to stare him down. "What? It's not the end of the world."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt again," Sarah said, still giving him suspicious looks, but settling back in her chair. "I know you pretend like everything's just fine, but stuff hurts you deep. You've always been sensitive that way."

Tim sighed again. "Abby's not like you think, Sarah."

Sarah raised her eyebrows. "I think you think I think she's worse than you think I think."

Tim shook his head. "I should be worried that I even understood that. What _do_ you think, then?"

Sarah shrugged. "Well, I'm no psych major, but I think that she's a really nice person who gets hyper-fixated on certain things she's passionate about – and when she does, she doesn't always stop to think how that's going to affect someone else. Also, she's a little commitment-phobic, but you knew that." Sarah folded her hands in her lap. "Now, _you_ – you've had a thing for Goths since you were in high school. Ah-!" She held up a finger to stop him from saying anything. "Don't deny it. There's nothing wrong with it. They're a subculture, not Martians. _Anyhow_. You meet Goth girl who actually likes you like that and you want to close the deal. She freaks. You both retreat."

That was a pretty fair assessment of his and Abby's initial relationship, Tim had to admit. "But then we became friends. Really close friends."

"Right," Sarah allowed, "but you never closed the door entirely. Now, you're super-close and it could go either way, stay where it is or move forward."

"I find this counseling session of yours funny, considering you were the one warning me to watch myself around her a couple years ago," Tim muttered.

Sarah inclined her head as if conceding the point. "So I get a little overprotective where my big brother is concerned. You've spazzed out over my exes before. Everyone's entitled to have their bitchy days, I guess."

Tim knew that tone. Sarah wanted to let bygones be bygones, but she was really good at holding a grudge and the two factions were at war. But her urge to move on seemed to be winning and Tim smiled. He knew she'd come around eventually. "Okay, so since you're trying out your nickel psychology, what's next?"

"It's _obvious_ you never let go of the romantic side," Sarah said. "I mean, just look at Amy's fascination with McGregor in the _Deep Six_ series. You have her avatar pursuing yours because you really _wanted_ that to be going on. And her frustration with the unrequited romance parallels your own."

"Sarah, that's not-"

"Ah!" Sarah cut him off again. "There is nothing wrong with it. Many, many a spy novel has been written by someone who was out in the field – and a staple of the spy novel is sexy girls, right? I highly doubt those guys got nearly as many in bed as their characters did. It's a male ego thing."

"Male ego?" Tim sputtered. "What do you call all those teenage girls writing 'Twilight' fanfiction just so they can pretend they're sexing it up with Edward?"

"A tragedy," Sarah replied without missing a beat. "Okay, it's a _human_ thing, if we must be PC. Now here's your situation. Tragedy has given you the wake-up call. In the movies, you sweep her into your arms and ride off into the sunset together. In real life, there's emotions to deal with and history and...you know, that crap."

She wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. "I didn't even invite you over, much less request a counseling session."

Sarah's grin was quirky. "No charge."

"So, what?" Tim asked. "We wait until things have settled before making any serious decisions? I figured that part out on my own, thanks."

"Good." Sarah reached for the remote. "Whatcha got on DVR?"

Sarah's subject changes could give Tim mental whiplash. He frowned. "So that's it? We never needed to have this conversation?" He loved her, but life with Sarah could be downright bizarre.

"Just watching out for you, bro." Sarah shrugged. "Ooh, look, _Return of the King_ is on. Extended edition! Score."

"Have fun." Tim patted her on the head. "I'm going to bed. Keep the volume down."

Sarah laughed. "You're just saying that because you fall apart every time Sam carries Frodo up Mount Doom. There's nothing _wrong_ with that. It's an emotional scene."

"No, I'm saying that because it's two in the morning and I have things to do later," Tim insisted. "Good night. Lock the door when you leave."

Sarah nodded, changing the channel, then called over her shoulder, "You know, you really shouldn't keep my ladybug toothbrush out in the open. It's forever old. And a little weird."

So _that_ was where it had come from. Tim never could remember and it had become a fixture in his bathroom – even after the whole mess of trouble it had caused him with Abby. He should have let her use his toothbrush, but ultimately, everything had worked out okay. And it would this time, too; Tim was beginning to have faith in that. But this time, he wouldn't let insecurity chase him away from changing the status quo – and he hadn't needed his sister's psychoanalysis to tell him that.


	11. Rules, Broken

The recovery process was always a roller-coaster ride. There were exhilarating thrills of progress and dramatic, heart-stopping lows. Adding in the stages of the grieving process that followed any major change in life, it made for a very interesting mix. But this was one of the good days.

After the latest MRI came back, Abby's neurologist had declared he was reasonably sure the weakness in her leg was due to the bruising in the injured areas of her brain and not permanent damage from lack of blood or oxygen. She was regaining her strength slowly but surely, and the neurologist assured them he was confident she would recover completely. In the meantime, Abby had been working with the physical therapist and a crutch, and in the three days since she'd been moved to the step-down unit, she was getting around pretty well with it.

It was a lightweight metal arm crutch, allowing Abby to stop and lean on it to rest as she needed. But every day, she was getting stronger, and Tim could tell she was finally allowing herself to be encouraged by her progress.

Also encouraging were the leads they were getting on Charity's case. Though no firm ID had been made, the man the other missing girl had been seen with last was described by witnesses as looking similar to the man patrons had seen lurking around The Shadowbox. Amanda Walden, the other missing girl, wasn't a Goth, but her style was similar; someone operating out of blind prejudice wasn't likely to know the difference. The fact that they were both George Mason students could have meant that their abductor had been stalking the campus or it could be a coincidence. Nothing in the FBI investigation indicated Amanda and Charity knew each other or had ever met. If NCIS had been officially involved in the case, it would have been a long string of late nights and empty coffee cups. As it was, there were still late nights and empty coffee cups for both agencies, but for different reasons.

Though they weren't staying with Abby 24/7 anymore, the team still spent most of their time with her. They had gone back to work, technically, but one or more of them was usually at the hospital and there hadn't been any cases yet requiring the MCRT. Under other circumstances, Vance would more than likely have sent them out on cases other teams could have handled, just to keep them busy, but he had left them on cold cases and Gibbs' team knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Gibbs was pretending he wasn't playing phone tag with Fornell, getting updates as they trickled along. Metro PD had upped their presence at known Goth and punk hotspots throughout the area, but the FBI had officially taken over the case.

Ziva was having lunch with Abby, and Tim was beginning to wish he'd had the same idea. Instead, he was perusing anti-Goth websites, hoping to find someone bragging, some connection. As long as it wasn't "officially" for the case, he could get away with it. As long as he was just a concerned friend trying to help and didn't take any action, no one could say anything. But it was sickening. Most of the insults, Tim had seen Abby dodge with grace before, but the anonymity of the Internet led people to post some truly horrible things. There were the graphic images of Sophie Lancaster and her boyfriend, of course, but instead of finding them on loving memorial sites, Tim was seeing the violence celebrated – and in some cases, altered to look even worse. It was revolting. He couldn't take it for very long, and soon he changed his search terms. "Killed by Goths," he knew, would bring up a lot of untrue stories, with facts twisted, with murderers who happened to wear black receiving the label, but with the level of violence and hatred that had been directed toward Abby, Tim couldn't let it go without a look.

Tim automatically excluded everything related to mass shootings, knowing those were the most famous crimes to be unjustly blamed on the Goth community. A few pages into his search, he found a crudely constructed – at least by his standards – personal page which immediately accosted him with music and graphics of angels floating across his screen. He was surprised the so-called designer hadn't thrown in any novelty cursors as well. Tim almost clicked off the site in sheer annoyance, but this was exactly what he'd been looking for, someone personal with a vendetta. There was a similarly obnoxious links page, linking to memorials of other "victims of these freaks," but it was the two young women the site was dedicated to that caught Tim's attention. They were listed as being twenty-one and nineteen, sisters named Ashley and Sara Pratt, from Loudon County, Virginia. Tim's focus zeroed in on the fact that both girls had attended George Mason.

At first glance, neither Ashley nor Sara particularly resembled Amanda or Charity. Both girls had long brown hair and were dressed fairly conservatively. Tim clicked through the page, looking for more – and he began to think he might have found something. All the pictures of the sisters were similar to the one on the main page – except a blurry cell phone picture that showed them with multicolored braids in their hair and decidedly more Gothic clothing. That page was a diatribe about the Goths who had "mislead" these "poor, innocent" girls and ultimately were responsible for their deaths. They had died in a car accident two years ago, and the site claimed the "Goth freak" driving the car "was probably on drugs." Whoever had authored the site had a limited vocabulary and a clear vendetta against Goths. It was a long shot that he'd even found it – a neon counter informed him he'd been the 325th visitor to the site since its creation two years ago. The types of sites Tim frequented got that many hits in less than an hour.

Tony wandered over as Tim signaled him and Gibbs followed. They gathered around Tim's computer, various levels of disgust registering on their faces. Gibbs turned to Tim. "Find out where that site came from and get it to Fornell."

Tim nodded. "Sure thing."

Gibbs nodded once before heading back to his desk and grabbing the phone. He paused before dialing. "And, McGee?"

"Yeah, Boss?" Tim asked.

"Save that thing, all of it, in case someone tries to take it down."

Tim smiled. "Already done." It was the smart thing to do, but Tim still loved when he was able to anticipate Gibbs' orders and carry them out in advance.

* * *

Tim liked to visit Abby in the late evening, when the activity had died down and the administrators were gone. He knew medical staff grumbled when units instituted open visiting hours and he tried not to become "that visitor." He generally settled into Abby's room for a few hours and did his best to keep out of the nurses' hair unless Abby needed something.

Tim smiled as he helped Abby get settled in bed, leaning the crutch against the side rail in case she needed it after he was gone. "I'm surprised Tony hasn't made any Tiny Tim jokes yet."

Abby laughed. "Nah, that's not his style. Too obvious."

Tim snorted. "In case you haven't noticed, Tony is not exactly known for his subtlety."

"Maybe not," Abby allowed, "but if you're _expecting_ him to make a certain joke, he's probably not going to do it – just to keep you guessing."

Tim inclined his head, conceding the point. "True." Tony was like a mouthy but dependable older brother; he might give his friends hell, but he was there for them when they needed it.

Abby smiled. "So did you hear they're kicking me out soon?"

Tim grinned. "Yeah, that's the word." Originally, the doctors had wanted Abby to spend a few more days on a regular med-surg unit in order to continue her physical therapy, but she had been doing so well they couldn't justify it, as long as she had someone to help her out at home. Gibbs had promptly declared Abby would be coming home with him, so that was settled. Her injuries still bothered her when she was up and about, but oral painkillers were keeping things under control. And Abby was too determined to get back on her feet – unassisted – to let pain deter her. It would be nice if she was released in the morning, so she could see Luca and Emma off, as they had to return to New Orleans and had an afternoon flight. But even if she wasn't, they would come to say goodbye.

"What about Charity?" Abby always asked, every visit. Tim was glad he had something to tell her this time.

"We found a website," Tim said. "Don't know if it's related yet, but there were two girls about the same age who got into the Goth world in college. Looks like they came from a pretty strict home life. They were killed in a car accident, and whoever designed the website is obviously blaming the wrong people."

Abby nodded sadly. "You think that's the person who took Charity and that other girl?"

Tim shook his head. "You know as well as I do that a lot of coincidences look suspicious at first. FBI's following up on it. I gave them the IP address to track it. Couldn't do much else officially."

Abby looked down, and Tim knew depression was an inevitable thing that came and went throughout the healing process. Tim couldn't make it go away, but hopefully, he could distract her for a little bit. She was on wireless monitors now and IV-free, so as long as they didn't leave that floor of the hospital, she could roam a bit. Plus, while she still had a hospital gown on to allow room for the monitors, she'd been able to put pajama pants on underneath, so modesty was no longer a concern. Today's selection was fuzzy pink bunnies with fangs.

Tim patted Abby's arm. "You up to a little exploring?"

"Sure." Abby shrugged. "I think I've seen every inch of this unit with that therapist."

"So let's see what else we can find." Tim had discovered a twenty-four hour pastry shop in the lobby that connected the step-down unit to the whatever was on the other wing of the floor. "I checked out the range of those monitors. Unless someone peeks in, they'll never know you were gone."

Abby laughed, reaching for her crutch. "Yeah, I'm not going anywhere too fast these days."

On an impluse, Tim brushed her hand aside and reached to her. He picked her up, grinning as she laughed. "This better?"

Abby kissed his cheek. "What are you going to do, give me a piggyback ride?"

"If you want," Tim offered. He was sure the staff would not approve, but that was only if they got caught. There was an element of excitement to it. He set Abby back on the bed so she could get adjusted and let her climb onto his back. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled his neck as he supported her legs.

Tim peeked out the doorway of Abby's room; the nurses' station was in the opposite direction of the lobby. A tech was at the desk reading a book and one of the nurses was in the hall, but then she stepped into the medication room. Tim stepped out; trying not to move too quickly and jostle Abby. Still, he'd had to drag co-workers out of dangerous situations before when they were dead weight and so Abby was remarkably light by comparison. Tim was more brain than muscle, as Tony reminded him frequently, but Tim was still no slouch in the gym. He'd worked hard to maintain his physical bearing as a field agent – and now, it was time to use that strength for a little fun. "Stop giggling," he teased Abby. "Your heart rate is going to shoot up and they'll come looking for us."

It wasn't a long trip, but that wasn't the point. It was a change of scenery for Abby, a less sterile environment than the hospital room for them to talk – and a really awesome selection of muffins only a few feet away. The prices were good by DC standards anyway, but patients and visitors got an additional discount. Neither of them was extremely hungry, so Tim bought a banana nut muffin and broke it in half for them to share. He settled down next to Abby on one of the loveseats in the lobby and draped an arm over her shoulders. She leaned close, snuggling against him..

"Thank you," Abby told him softly, crumbs slipping between her fingers to land on the ears of a fanged bunny.

Tim shrugged, as if it was nothing. Abby was no longer heavily medicated, so he was trying to be far more careful with what and how he said things. He didn't want to set either of them up for another heartbreak. "It was a cheap muffin."

"Not the _muffin_, Timmy," Abby countered, with a hint of fond exasperation. "For everything else. For being you."

"We're your friends," Tim assured her. "You'd do the same for us."

Abby shook her head softly, tracing the pattern on Tim's tie with a finger. "Not all friends are alike. I love you all, and you know that, but...what we have is special."

And there it was, the sign from above Tim had been waiting for. He'd honestly expected something far more dramatic or romantic – her rushing into his arms or somesuch, not being caught with a mouthful of banana nut muffin in a hospital lobby. But that was the moment when he knew he had fallen again, fallen hard, and was never going to be able to let go again. He swallowed as quickly as he could without choking, knowing he needed to say it before he lost his nerve. "I love you."

Abby leaned her head on his shoulder. "I know."

Tim shook his head and pulled back a little so he could look her in the eyes. He couldn't afford any miscommunication, not when the emotional stakes were so high. "No, I mean...I _love_ you. Not like puppies or science, or...anything. Just me, you." He hoped like hell he wasn't going to scare her off, but she had to know the truth. And so did he. If she didn't feel the same, he had to reconstruct that professional wall again immediately and keep it in place.

Abby's eyes misted as she reached up to touch Tim's cheek. "Oh, Timmy." For a moment, Tim's heart sank. Everything depended on what that sigh meant. "I love you, too. I think...I just needed time, to be sure I wasn't rushing in, to...I don't know."

"You don't have to explain." Tim rested his cheek against her hair. They'd both dated others in their time apart, sometimes getting serious. None of that mattered anymore, just this new beginning. Tim turned Abby's face toward his for a gentle kiss, which quickly intensified. As deeply as he was into the moment, in the back of Tim's mind, he still worried they'd be interrupted by a less-than-pleased nurse. It wasn't enough to stop him, though.

Tim's concerns weren't entirely unfounded. Someone _did_ happen upon them, getting their attention with a pointed clearing of his throat. Tim turned and froze. _Busted_. Abby blushed, flashing her best innocent smile. Tim's brain hadn't communicated with the rest of his body yet, so he just blinked and managed to keep his mouth closed.

Gibbs stood across from the loveseat – a name that had become especially apt in the last few minutes – and gave the two of them his best questioning look. He was impossible to read. He didn't seem angry, but Gibbs rarely showed that outwardly. "Either of you care to explain?"

Tim was pretty sure he was screwed, no matter what. It rarely ended well when anyone walked in on someone kissing their daughter. And, blood or not, that's what Abby was to Gibbs. "Ah, well, see, Boss...I can explain..." No, he couldn't. He really couldn't. Not to Gibbs' satisfaction. Tim closed his eyes and waited for the wrath to descend upon him.

* * *

Gibbs had been at the office late, making sure he knew all that Fornell knew about the case. He'd decided to drop in to see Abby on his way home, but had detoured for coffee on the way to her room. And found her there, with Tim. The kiss was hardly anything blush-worthy, but Gibbs was not one to walk away, pretending he'd seen nothing. The signs had been falling into place for awhile now; he was hardly shocked – but he did need to lay down some firm ground rules and he figured he might as well do it before things got too complicated. He'd been meaning to do the same with Tony and Ziva – Gibbs didn't know who they thought they were fooling, but it wasn't him – but they hadn't provided him any openings yet. This opening, however, was about as obvious as it got.

Gibbs let Tim stammer for a moment, trying to explain himself, because it was mildly amusing. Also, expected. He wasn't trying to terrify his people; he just wanted to make sure everyone was on the same page and the expectations were clear. Rule Twelve had its purpose and reasons, like every other rule Gibbs kept. But it hadn't always been as strict. And, like all the others, it was meant for protection, not dictatorship. He had been hurt by a looser interpretation long ago, so he locked it down, made it firm. But Gibbs knew that in the end, while behavior could be controlled, feelings couldn't.

He was actually less worried about Abby and Tim than he was Ziva and Tony. Though Gibbs' team worked closely with Abby, they technically were employed by different departments. They had a longer and far less torrid history. Gibbs had been keeping an eye on both situations for quite some time, but this was the one fate had decided he would deal with first. And it was actually much easier than it would have been if he'd happened upon wandering lips in the lab, because they weren't at work.

Gibbs gave Tim a minute more to squirm before sitting down in the chair opposite them. "So, explain."

As Gibbs had expected, Abby was the first to respond. She was much more comfortable standing up to him – and she also saw through him more easily. "Gibbs, please don't freak out."

"Do I look like I'm freaking out?" Gibbs asked. "I just asked for an explanation." With any other boyfriend of Abby's, Gibbs would have had to evaluate their worthiness. But Tim had more than proven himself.

"Boss, we'll keep it professional," Tim said after a moment. "It's just...I can't – I won't pretend those feelings don't exist. Not anymore."

Gibbs nodded. "Do you love her, McGee?" Had they just started dating, he wouldn't have been so absolute, but he already knew the answer to the question. The real test would be _how_ Tim answered.

"Yes," Tim replied – firmly, without hesitation.

Gibbs smiled. "Good." He looked at them, and damned if they didn't look perfectly content together. He loved each member of his team deeply, but it was different with the women – and not because he saw them as weaker, not by any means. He knew full well Abby and Ziva could hold their own. But while Tony and Tim were indeed his protegees, sons of the heart, Gibbs saw himself in Ziva and Kelly in Abby. And most fathers would confess that while they loved equally, there was just something different about having a girl. "Then let me tell you what you're going to do. You _will_ keep it professional during work hours. The lab is not your bedroom. And if for whatever reason it doesn't work out, you either find a way to work together or you make other arrangements." He trusted they would find a way to put aside their differences if it came to that, but it needed to be said. "And, Tim?"

Tim looked infinitely more relieved than he had at the start of the conversation. "Yeah, Boss?"

"Just so we're clear," Gibbs said, "if you hurt her, you _will_ be dealing with me."


	12. Bonds Forged by Fire

_I've been playing with the timing on this story, as it has become linked to a later series I'm planning. It was going to be standalone, but they just work so well together. The events of this story play out sometime in Season 9, though the timing of some things changes...it becomes AU, but it will also include elements we saw in the series. (The beauty of getting to cherry-pick what you like?) A brief mention of "Hit and Run" is made in this chapter, but it doesn't spoil anything unless you saw the episode. And if you did...wasn't it awesome?!_

_ Due to elements in this story, I'd also like to point out that have nothing against any religion that does not harm others. However, the insane do tend to latch onto religion and/or sex...so please don't be offended by any scenes in that vein. _

* * *

"You know," Carol observed as Abby waited for Luca and Emma to arrive so she could say goodbye before they headed to the airport, "between the two of us, we could probably get away with anything right now."

"What, because being decent to Goths is all of a sudden a thing?" Abby snorted. It wasn't like her to be so pessimistic, but it had been a tough morning physically, even if she had the emotional high of her renewed relationship with Tim. She was fighting pain and frustrated that she couldn't go to the airport to see Luca and Emma off.

Carol shook her head. "No, who cares about that part? I mean, just us, right now. You've got that crutch and I'm four feet tall."

Abby laughed. Carol's dwarfism was not something they ever discussed, because they didn't need to. It was as much of a non-issue as the fact that Abby's hair was dyed. Carol explained but never excused herself because of her height. Abby knew Carol was just trying to cheer her up, but she couldn't help but tease in return. "And that's our key to getting away with anything?"

"Oh, yeah." Carol grinned. "For some reason, 'short' translates to 'adorable' among the norms. And you...well, if they don't let you do what you want, whack 'em with the crutch."

Abby braced her healing ribs with an arm as she laughed again. Carol always knew how to bring humor into the worst situations; it was one of the things Abby loved most about her. They'd been sharing an apartment in grad school, so broke between grants they had to collect change from the couch cushions and split it, and still Carol found something to laugh about – and make Abby laugh in turn. "I'd offer to test that once I get out of here, but I don't think Gibbs is going to let me out of his sight for awhile." He might have granted his blessing to her relationship with Tim – and, boy, was she grateful for that – but she knew Gibbs was going to hook a metaphorical leash to her dog collar, at least as long as she was staying with him. Abby didn't mind; she loved Gibbs and she loved it when he got fatherly with her. But it would not lend itself to shenanigans.

Luca arrived with a dozen black roses, promising it wouldn't be as long before they got to visit next. Abby was all for that. She wanted time to spend with both her brothers where things were "normal," like hanging around cooking gumbo and not her stuck in a hospital bed. Emma, ever the hopeless romantic, asked if Abby was ever going to marry Tim. It wasn't the first time, but Abby was delighted to be able to whisper to her niece that Tim had been officially upgraded to "boyfriend" status. Emma squealed with delight. Gibbs smiled knowingly at Abby and gave her a hug before leaving to take Luca and Emma to the airport.

Carol looked Abby over as her family left. "Hey, I found something. Had to call in some favors, but it was worth it."

Abby brightened a little. "What's that?"

Carol pulled a pink flannel heart out of her pocket and placed it in Abby's hand. "It was in the back pocket of the jeans you were wearing. They were mostly done with them as evidence, so it's cool."

Abby's eyes widened. Perhaps it was a silly thing, but that scrap of fabric was a part of her. She always carried it, and she'd been too caught up in everything to think about it until then. "Thank you." She hadn't told anyone at NCIS about it; it was just a private thing. But Carol knew, and it meant a lot that the worn, fuzzy heart had been returned to her.

Carol hugged Abby. "Hey, no problem. You ever see me when my favorite flash drive goes missing? It's not pretty."

Abby giggled; she knew the one. It was a Marvin the Martian flash drive, but the head was the cover and the USB stick was in the body. "Bet that's fun asking around about."

"Yeah." Carol chuckled. "Has anyone seen a tiny headless Martian around here...?"

It felt good to laugh again. Abby still had a lot of worries, but life was headed back in the right direction.

* * *

Amanda had pretty much accepted that she was going to be Sara forever. It had been a long time. She'd lost track of how long, and so had Ashley...no, Charity. It was hard keeping their own identities straight from the ones being forced upon them. They were together now; their captor had stopped keeping them apart after a few days. He insisted they call him "Dad," but what kind of father would tie his daughters up, force them to sleep in a filthy basement, and recite Bible verses on command? Amanda's foster parents were Christians, so she had a healthy knowledge of the Bible, but she certainly hadn't memorized Leviticus or random passages. Charity had called herself a "recovering fundie," so she knew the basics, too. But this guy didn't want basics; he wanted everything, as if every chapter, verse, and book should have been rote memorized. They had daily lectures, about the evils of their lifestyle. About how they had become unholy in the sight of God and had to be cleansed. This wasn't what the God Amanda believed in would have wanted, but she played the game, because she knew it was essential to staying alive.

They were fed a couple of times a day, nothing special, but at least it wasn't the kind of gruel hostages got fed in horror movies. They took turns saying grace and sometimes dragged it out, just to show how "devout" they really were.

At night, they cuddled up together for warmth – but always fully dressed and never too close, lest he stumble in and give them a lecture on the evils of homosexuality or incest or whatever he was on about at the moment. At night, they could finally cry, both for the homes they missed, for their situation, and sometimes just because it was the only way to stay sane. Charity had tearfully told Amanda of how she had been forced to watch that monster beat her friend nearly to death, then throw her away like garbage. Charity didn't even know if her friend was still alive. It made Amanda feel almost grateful she'd been alone when she was taken.

Charity's family had distanced themselves from her and started praying for her soul when she'd begun to identify with the Goth culture. Compared to what she and Amanda were going through now, Amanda would have bet that would feel like a blessing. She was lucky. Her family let her be who she wanted to be, let her find herself. Sure, they worried occasionally, given that the punk crowd's PR could have been better. But they never failed to show their love. Whoever Sara and Ashley had been, this wasn't love. The clothes they'd been forced to wear looked like something out of a period drama. All they needed were locked chastity belts and the look would have been complete. And she'd thought the kids raised on religious communes had it bad.

Surely someone had to be looking for them. Amanda's parents would have gotten worried by now. Someone had to notice that they weren't in class. Amanda was still in her gen ed courses, but Charity was a nursing student. They had clinical rotations; she would have been more than a face in the crowd. Charity had laughed at how she'd been annoyed that she had to take off most of her makeup and cover her piercings in clinicals; now all of that seemed silly compared to what they were being forced to endure.

They'd been left alone after their daily "lessons," and Charity giggled a bit hysterically. "Doth not even nature itself teach you that it is a shame for a man to have long hair?" She continued laughing. "The preacher always loved that one...and I'm like, Jesus had long hair, didn't he?"

Amanda smiled. Their captor's hair was definitely a bit on the scruffy side. She knew that verse, too, though she couldn't have quoted its exact book of origin. "My mom always said Paul was a mighty man of God, but he was kind of a misogynistic jerk." Charity's snort encouraged her. "My dad has long hair...whenever someone would try that with him, he'd say, 'They said it was a _shame_, not a _sin_!'"

Charity leaned against Amanda. They were still tied up, but at the wrists, not back-to-back. They'd had to bond in order to keep their wits about them. "I think I'd like your family. They sound like they get it. That's what I always love about Abby. I mean, she's really Catholic, but she's so-" She cut off, falling silent.

Amanda knew what had to be going through Charity's mind. "I'm sure someone found her. I mean, you said she called for help, right? The police can track cell phones."

"Yeah." Charity sighed. "I just...guess I have to hope."

Amanda nodded in agreement. Though it seemed cliché, hope was all they really had left.

* * *

Gibbs was used to his house being quiet and empty, but it had been nice having Luca and Emma there. Especially Emma. There hadn't been a little girl's laughter in his home in far too long. Amira visited often and Gibbs loved her dearly, but she didn't usually stay overnight. She was still a bit young for that.

Ducky sometimes told Gibbs he was a melancholy soul, though understandably so, given the losses he'd faced. Gibbs didn't try to label anything; he just took life as it came. He would give anything to have his girls with him, but he'd found another family that eased the pain of their absence. And as much as he hated the circumstances that led up to it, having Abby with him for a few weeks would be nice.

His phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID. He had no plans to interrupt _El Dorado_ – no matter how many times he had seen it – for some snoopy reporter looking for an update. But it was Ziva, so he answered. "Gibbs."

"We may have something." Gibbs could picture Ziva's smile over the phone. "I am not at liberty to name my contact, but the report on the accident that killed Sara and Ashley Pratt was...disclosed to me."

Gibbs grinned. "I'm listening."

"The accident was near Baltimore, two years ago this month. It took place at night on I-83, near the Jones Falls Expressway," Ziva reported.

"Dead Man's Curve," Gibbs murmured. "Dangerous stretch. Drugs or alcohol?"

"None found in the driver's system," Ziva replied. "Police thought they smelled marijuana, but only traces were found in the system of one backseat passenger. There were four passengers in the car, all killed but one – an eighteen year old named Lauren Tate."

If this was Gibbs' case, he'd be on his way to the survivor's house, but unfortunately, he didn't have that option. "I'm assuming the LEOs are contacting her."

Ziva made a sound, as if to suggest she'd do it herself if they didn't. "Yes. I should know more tomorrow. But the official cause of the crash was concluded to be related to texting while driving, given that the driver's phone had half a message composed and was found in his hand."

The official report wouldn't mention anything about the victims being involved with the Goth community, but Gibbs knew Ziva had ways of getting more than the officially released information from her sources. "Any interesting connections?"

"Only that they were returning from a concert," Ziva said. "The group was called...Children on Stun?"

Gibbs had no idea who they were, but it sounded like something Abby might listen to. Her favorite bands all had strange names like that. "Never heard of them, but I'll ask Abby tomorrow. I'll be interested to hear what the survivor's got to say."

"As will I," Ziva agreed.

"Thanks, Ziva. Get some rest." Gibbs smiled as he hung up the phone and returned to his movie. He loved the way his people had of making progress, even on cases that weren't theirs.

* * *

It was the first time since the attack on Abby that Tony could really remember being able to relax. He sat at his piano, playing a tune he'd written long ago, after his breakup with Wendy. Someday he hoped to put words to it. He didn't write or even play often, and he never made a big deal of it. He had many secrets he liked to keep for himself and those he let get close to him.

Ever since Tony had seen the footage of Ziva's ill-fated undercover stint as a nightclub singer, he harbored a private fantasy that he might finally put words to a song and she might sing it. He usually dismissed the idea as being a bit over-the-top romantic, even for him, but it was a nice thought. He and Ziva had finally stopped pretending after her breakup with Ray, after he'd finally closed the door with EJ. They had to keep it sly, but Tony knew Tim and Abby had figured it out. Tony wasn't worried about them; he was worried about Gibbs. It had not gone well the last time Tony had broken Rule Twelve, for EJ, and Tony was not looking forward to a repeat performance.

The FBI was currently hot on the trail of Simon Pratt, Ashley and Sara's father. Lauren Tate had reported that he was "always a nutjob," but had snapped completely after the accident. Lauren had been forced to take out a restraining order on him for a time to keep him from hounding her. He was convinced it was the Goth lifestyle that had caused the accident, some form of divine retribution – and while he'd openly hated Goths before, it had only intensified after his daughters were killed. Lauren thought the sketch of the suspect "kind of" looked like Pratt, and thus he had become the prime target of the investigation. It might have been a dead-end lead, but it was what they had. And Tony's gut – as well as Gibbs' – suggested that if Pratt wasn't their man, he was at least involved.

The case was hot – and out of Tony's hands. Abby had been released from the hospital that morning and was staying with Gibbs. Ziva had plans with a neighbor to see the latest chick flick. Tim was chained to his writing desk; he had a deadline looming. That left Tony on his own, with his music.

Late in the evening, Gibbs called, asking Tony to come over. He didn't specify why – when did he ever? – but the tone suggested it wasn't an emergency. Still, Tony got put together quickly and headed over. As usual, he let himself in; finding the living room vacant, he headed to the basement. Sure enough, Gibbs was there, whittling at a chunk of wood.

"Hey, Boss." Tony draped his coat over the stair railing and headed down. "Abby okay?"

Gibbs nodded. "She's asleep."

"Oh, good. She could probably use it." Tony accepted the mason jar of bourbon Gibbs offered. "I know I never sleep well in hospitals, unless I'm unconscious."

That almost got a smile out of Gibbs. "That's not why I called you here."

Tony had gathered that much, but he sipped his drink and let Gibbs lead the way, since he honestly had no idea what this was about. Usually, their heart-to-heart basement chats started with Tony dropping by unannounced, not being summoned. "Okay."

"Rule Fifty-One," Gibbs said after a long moment.

"Sometimes you're wrong." Tony thought that over. He couldn't recall any way either of them had screwed up lately.

Gibbs nodded. "The rules have reasons. You know that. You know what the main reason is?"

"To protect us," Tony answered. They'd had this conversation before.

Gibbs nodded, sliding a scrap of paper across the worktable to Tony. On it, in fading ink, was written, _#12 – Think twice before dating a co-worker._ Over that, in darker writing, but still aged, words had been crossed out, some added, so that it read, _"Never date a co-worker."_ Tony swallowed. He was pretty sure he was caught, but why had Gibbs brought Rule Fifty-One up as a preface?

Tony handed it back to Gibbs. He knew the actual paper the rules were written on was sacred – this was the first he'd ever seen – and he was honored. "Um, is this about me and Ziva, Boss?" Gibbs knew. Tony _knew_ he knew. He was prepared to defend himself, but if this was going to be an order to call it quits, Tony thought Gibbs would have had Ziva there.

Gibbs nodded. "You're not as subtle as you think, DiNozzo."

Tony sighed. Guilty as charged. "Listen, Boss. This isn't our first go-round. We know it could blow up in our faces. But so have other relationships. We've survived. We're both adults and we know how to be professional." He was glad he was seated out of head-smacking range, though Gibbs did move with lightning speed when he was determined to deliver a wake-up call.

Gibbs shook his head, taking a sip of his own drink. "I didn't ask you for a novel. I'm saying, things change. People change. Sometimes you don't always see it coming."

"Wait a minute." Tony was pretty sharp, but Gibbs had a way of baffling him like no one else. "You're saying you know about me and Ziva...and you're okay with it?"

Gibbs snorted. "I have my concerns. I'm saying you need to be careful. Both of you have a way of ending relationships rather...spectacularly."

Tony couldn't deny that. But Gibbs himself had said people changed. Tony knew both he and Ziva had. "But what about me and EJ? Why were you so pissed at me then?"

"She was no good for you," Gibbs replied. "Those rules are to keep you from getting hurt, not to spoil your fun. And they're not changing."

"But, in rare cases, exceptions can be made." Tony nodded, starting to get it. They'd done it before with other rules. He sighed. "I...I really do care about her, Gibbs."

Gibbs nodded. "I know you do. But before you go too far, just make damned sure you know you love her as a woman and not just your partner. And when you're on the clock, she _is_ your partner and nothing more."

"Got it." Tony grinned. This had gone far better than he ever could have imagined. And it made sense, now, given their relationship, that this would be a talk between him and Gibbs, without Ziva. Tony was sure Gibbs would talk to Ziva, too, but their relationship had a different tone. "Thanks. It...it means a lot."

Gibbs nodded with that trademark expression that said more than words ever could. "Just don't screw this up, Tony."

Tony laughed. "Right, because you'll kick my ass if I do?"

Gibbs hid his smile behind his mug. "If she doesn't beat me to it."

* * *

_I may have to go back and watch "Hit and Run" again now. THE FEELS._


	13. The Sweet Taste of Freedom

_Sorry for my extended absence! My computer finally failed me and has now been replaced with an old but trusty IBM. Les Miserables fandom swallowed me whole. I've been crazy busy. And, yadda, yadda, the usual excuses. But I promise I haven't given up on this story or any of my works-in-progress. If I don't know where they're going, I either don't post them or take them down, because I'm with many of you – a story that never finishes can be so frustrating! But, yeah. So a lot has happened in Season 10 since I wrote last. Fortunately, the story is still near the middle to end of Season 9, so it doesn't affect this tale, but expect to see pieces of recent events woven as things progress, even though the story dovetails into AU territory. (Also, am I the only one in favor of a standardized keyboard? This new laptop has the Fn and Ctrl keys reversed from what I've been used to and it's driving me nuts because I touch-type.)_

* * *

Even though it wasn't _her_ bed, it was nice to be in a real bed again, especially when Abby knew she was under Gibbs' watchful care. No one would hurt her here, not in Gibbs' house. And she hated feeling scared, wondering if her attacker might come back to finish the job. It wasn't like her. But, as Ducky had reminded her, the anxiety was totally normal. In fact, he'd said, he would have been more worried if she wasn't fearful. That didn't mean Abby had to like it, however.

Abby grabbed her crutch, which Gibbs had left within easy reach for safety, and gently made her way downstairs to the main level. She still wasn't capable of going anywhere fast, but she could get around, and her nightmare had left her shaken. Gibbs wasn't on the couch, which meant he was probably in the basement. But, typical Gibbs, he heard her before she got to the basement door.

"Hey, Abs." Gibbs crossed to her and led her to the couch to sit. "You okay? It's late."

"I could ask the same of you," she pointed out.

Gibbs shrugged. "You know me. Always something to be done. I'm not the one who needs to heal."

Abby did her best imitation of Gibbs' wry smile. "I can sleep when I'm dead."

Gibbs smiled and kissed her forehead. "That had better not be for a very, very long time."

That did it. Abby leaned into his embrace. "I'm just...I'm scared, Gibbs. For Charity. For me. For anyone who just happens to look different."

Gibbs hugged her, obviously taking care to avoid the sore spots. "That's what you have us for, Abby. To protect you. To find her. To keep this from happening to anyone else. We've got leads. We're close."

Abby nodded. "I'm a little surprised you're not out there on the trail yourself."

"Not my jurisdiction," Gibbs replied automatically.

That got a chuckle out of her. "Since when has that ever stopped you before?"

"True," Gibbs admitted, nodding. "But I've got a deal with Fornell. If I stay physically out of the case, he tells me everything he knows."

"That still hasn't stopped you before," Abby pointed out.

"Of course not." Gibbs shook his head. "But one thing has. If I find him before we find Charity, I have to keep him alive. I'm not sure I can promise to do that. And if I rough him up for answers, the defense is going to turn your relationship with my team into a way to blow our case. Once Charity's safe, no promises."

Abby wasn't sure whether to be touched or worried. As usual with Gibbs in these cases, it was a bit of both. "Okay." She settled against his chest comfortably, sensing neither one of them was going anywhere in the next few minutes. "I heard Tony come in earlier. Is everything okay?"

"Fine," Gibbs assured her. "We had a talk."

Coming from Gibbs, that wasn't always a pleasant thing. "What kind of talk?"

"It was...a discussion of the rules," Gibbs said carefully.

Abby raised her eyes to look up at him and could see his smirk. "You mean about him and Ziva?" They could always read each other like that. "Was that anything like the talk you had with me and Tim?"

"Similar," Gibbs confirmed, "but different."

Abby nodded. "Well, of course it would be; they're two totally different relationships. With different history and personalities. But...oh, Gibbs, this is so great! You know I always thought Rule Twelve was a bit strict anyway."

"Don't get carried away," Gibbs advised, though he hugged her a little more firmly. "I have no intention of allowing the squad room to become the next Peyton Place. I trust all of you to use discretion, as well as-"

"Staying professional," Abby finished. "We know, Gibbs. And we will. But...this is still so great!" Her mind was still troubled in many respects, but she was happy to latch onto this piece of good news. She grinned, amused by an idea. She wasn't at all sure she was ready for marriage yet; she'd just now reconnected with Tim on that level. But she no longer ruled it out for the future. "If Tim and I get married, you're going to walk me down the aisle, right?"

Gibbs kissed her forehead again, his smile letting her know he was deeply touched. "Abs, it would be my honor."

* * *

Lauren Tate, the survivor of the crash that had killed Ashley and Sara, had been remarkably helpful, giving a detailed description of their father's erratic behavior and the dysfunctional home life he'd provided. She'd even known of a second family home in the Virginia mountains, one she said the girls had been dragged off to spend summers at. Lauren hadn't known anything about it other than that it was in the middle of nowhere, with horrible cell signal and no wi-fi. Her friends had complained of being bored stiff during those visits, like any self-respecting children of the electronic age. It actually sounded somewhat relaxing to Gibbs, if it hadn't been for the psychotically fanatical father's involvement.

Once an actual address had been pinned down, word traveled through the grapevine to Gibbs' team. He, Tony, McGee, and Ziva had each gotten calls from different contacts, providing them with the location. Neighbors had reported seeing Simon Pratt going into and out of the home in the woods – and while no one had seen any young women, Lauren's witness statement provided the FBI with enough to obtain a search warrant. Gibbs, like the rest of his team, had been working hard to restrain himself up to that point, but now that they were so close, it was as irresistible as an open door. He smiled at his team, nodding, saying nothing official that would be overheard. But they understood and so they grabbed their gear and followed him.

The FBI was on scene, watching the house when Gibbs and his team arrived. Fornell strolled over to meet Gibbs, his eyebrows raising. "Couldn't stay away, could you?"

"Of course not." Gibbs smiled. "What's the story?"

"Not that it's any of NCIS' business," Fornell replied good-naturedly, "but Pratt just went into the house after we arrived twenty minutes ago. We've got the place bugged, but nothing yet. If he doesn't leave again in the next few minutes, we'll storm the castle."

Gibbs nodded. He wanted to waltz right in, naturally, but he understood that sometimes, less was more. He cast a dubious look at an agent he didn't recognize who came striding over, looking unhappy.

"What's NCIS doing here?" the agent asked Fornell, obviously put out. "There's no military connection."

Fornell shrugged and smiled. "Professional courtesy, Agent O'Hara. We think Pratt might have been involved in an attack on their lab tech."

O'Hara frowned. "You mean this guy was the one who went after Abby?" Gibbs didn't know the agent, but he wasn't surprised that O'Hara knew Abby. She was extremely social.

"Evidence suggests it's a possibility," Gibbs said, choosing his words carefully. His gut said yes but that wasn't proof enough for an arrest.

O'Hara's frown melted into a slow, gritty smile – the kind that, among law enforcement agents, usually meant justice was about to be served. "In that case, welcome aboard."

* * *

As minutes passed and it became clear they were going to have to serve the search warrant with Pratt inside the house, it was amusing to watch Fornell and his agents begin to play one of Tony's favorite games. It was the one he liked to call, _I Don't See Any Other Agents Here, Do You?_ Practiced most often when agents from another agency, one not technically involved in the case but with a vested interest, were present at a crime scene. As far as Tony could tell, when the head count had been taken, Fornell's people were missing exactly four NCIS agents. Which was just how Tony liked it. They would be responsible for each other. The FBI would watch its own. And together, they were going to get to the bottom of this case.

Historically, this sort of situation went one of two ways. Either the suspect let them in and pretended to cooperate until they got too close or the suspect made the last stand upfront. Tony was always fond of the latter option, because it generally resulted in more bad-guy ass-kicking. And that was one of the many reasons he liked being a cop. Old West justice was definitely Gibbs' style and Tony could totally support that.

Pratt chose the option of trying to run, and Fornell and O'Hara gleefully pursued and tackled him. Tony and Ziva, along with another of Fornell's agents, moved toward the suspiciously padlocked basement door. Tony glanced at Ziva. She liked shooting locks. Actually, she just liked getting to shoot things, he suspected. "All yours, my trigger-happy Israeli."

Ziva grinned dangerously and fired at the lock, breaking it. She glanced over her shoulder at Gibbs for confirmation.

Gibbs nodded. "Check out the basement. McGee, you get the bedrooms. I'm going to see if Fornell needs any help outside."

Tony needed no help to translate that. "Save a piece for us, Boss!"

* * *

Never before had Ziva been so happy to see two young women chained up, obviously abused. Because they were _alive. _That was always a win. Yes, they'd need treatment, possibly even therapy, but they hadn't died praying someone would find them. Ziva rushed over, pulling out her knife to slice through their bonds.

"Oh, my God," one of the girls gasped. It took a moment to recognize her without the makeup Ziva had seen in the identifying photo. But it was Charity. "You're Abby's friends, from NCIS."

Tony flashed a winning grin as he helped Amanda to her feet, looking her over for obvious injuries. "Yes, we are. She's going to be real glad to see you."

Charity's eyes widened, a hopeful gasp escaping her lips. "You mean she's alive?"

"See, I told you," Amanda said softly, encouraging. Both still looked fearful, but that was entirely understandable.

"Are you ladies able to give me a statement?" the FBI agent asked. He seemed like a newbie, too hesitant, Ziva thought.

Charity nodded. "I...I think so. I don't recognize you..."

"He's FBI," Tony clarified. "One of the g-men."

"Without whom you would have nothing on this case," the agent shot back, a small, friendly smile on his lips. Ziva mentally upgraded her opinion of him a notch. Still a newbie, but one with sass.

"Come on." Ziva put an arm around Charity's achingly thin waist, supporting her as they walked toward the stairs. "Anything else we have left to do is best done away from this place."

Amanda nodded, exchanging a look with Charity. "I'll say amen to that."


End file.
